


Shit... I broke the game

by Elenielwen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, But it's skippable, Choice... and consequense, Contains Gore, Contains mentionings of blood, Epic fail on the Mary Sue part, Friendmance, Hey Solas why don't you love my OCs? xD, Long character introductions, Magic, Modern Girl in Thedas, NOT your average modern girl in Thedas!, Not a Mary Sue, Realistic point of view?, Rivalmance, Romance, SLOWEST BURN but fluff and perhaps smut, Self insert fic but not SELF insert, Time travel galore, Venture into AU land.., YOU perspective, mythical beasts, slooow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2018-09-16 20:17:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 98,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9288086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenielwen/pseuds/Elenielwen
Summary: Ever cared much about the butterfly effect? Reincarnations? Multiple dimensions? Magic?Well, let's just say this is anything but the usual modern girl in Thedas, and you are caught in the center of it. It is time to tread VERY carefully or you might just end up breaking the game...





	1. And so it all starts... again

**Author's Note:**

> So... I did a thing. This particular story has been written on to and fro for a long time.
> 
> I hope you enjoy - this fic is as far away from average as can be, and so... I thought I would add something new to the Solasmancing community!
> 
> So.. DO give me critique, DO analyse every single little thing, DO be a harsh judge on everything and everyone, because English is not my native language. I really want to grow as an author <3  
> 

Your head is pounding and not with the kind of headache one might wake up with after an evening of over indulging on alcoholic beverages or the kind of migraine you might end up with during a cold.

No, this is the kind of pain that makes it feel like your world is lit on fire, pounding, hammering, beating behind your eyes. As to make it worse, a whirlwind of searing, scalding, white hot agony is currently flaring up from your left hand.

 

Your throat feels raw, itchy, a burn pressing ever upwards as you yell at the top of your lungs. Your stomach clench in response, but offers nothing but stringy bile, jaw locking in a feeble attempt to stop the violent motions.

 

With no perception of time, the inferno rages on, a furious elephant stomping inside your skull, battling for dominance of your consciousness.

 

None of it makes any sense.

 

You can not seem to remember where you are or how you got here, or _**why**_ you're suffering. Your thoughts are muddled, clouded or too quick to grasp. For the world, you cannot even seem to focus enough to think _one_ coherent thought.

 

Just as you think _'this is it',_ the hand stops shooting molten lava up your arm, leaving you perspiring and shaking like a leaf in a storm.

 

What is going _on_?

 

Not wasting time, in case the pain comes back, you quickly open your eyes and scan your surroundings.

 

The first thing you take note of is that everything is pitch black. Blinking, you try to move unsuccessfully. Judging by the faint feeling of your feet touching your behind... you decide that you are sitting down, yet as you try to move again you notice you are unable to move your arms or legs.

 

Heart racing, you wiggle... and it dawns on you that you must be restricted. Tightly so, you note, and there's a rough, uneven feeling on your wrists and ankles.

 

You move once more, the rough material chafing on the skin around the wrists.

 

Rope?

 

A chill goes down your spine, and you exhale through the nose.

 

 _Why the_ _**hell** _ _are you bound?! You have no boyfriend with secret fetishes, and no friends or siblings around that would prank you in such a way._

 

The heart speeds up, head starting to swim mixing confusion and fear like a cocktail. You look around, try to make out something, anything, but it is equally dark everywhere. Where ever you are, it is utterly, abysmally, dark.

 

_Why?_

 

You close your eyes, no need to keep them open.

 

As if to make it worse, you notice that you are also confined within a deep, profound silence.

But such a thing makes no sense. You recently moved to a rural area where autumn storms are common, this year no exception. When you headed to bed, Pete the storm, was making the entire apartment vibrating.

Yet as you try to strain your hearing and listen, you hear nothing but the pounding of your own heartbeat.

 

Heart racing with a sudden spike of fear, you try to move once more. There has to be something you are missing here.

 

Your troubled stomach cramp in response to the jerky movements, and a severe nausea follows. With some difficulty you lean forward just in time as the stomach turns inside out. The back of your throat starts burning once more and you can practically feel just how raw, itchy, _swollen_ it is. Just wetting your lips make you wince. They are sore, cracked and taste of copper mixed with stomach acid.

 

When was the last time you had anything to drink? Last night before you went to sleep? Then why do you feel like you haven't had anything to drink for days?

 

_Just what the hell is going on here?_

 

Several possible scenarios race by in your mind, each one crazier than the next, doing nothing but making your stomach cramp even worse.

 

You dry heave over and over again as you test the restraints, not willing to give up, panic building up.

 

Almost on cue, a voice calls out in the darkness. It's a tiny, muffled sound but it is _everything_ to you. Instantly you stop wiggling, opening your eyes in response. Holding a bated breath, you look around once more, trying to blink and strain your eyes to see better. Time seems to come to a standstill as you listen intently.

 

But the moments pass by in silence.

 

Had the voice been your imagination?

 

Maybe all this fear and earlier pain is getting to you, grating on your sanity. You really need to find a way to free yourself and get home again.

 

You test the restraints once more, trying to move your arms and legs. Tears beginning to burn at the back of your eyes, you try to pry your hands loose... but the only thing that does is make the skin on your wrists burn.

 

All of a sudden you are hit with the realisation that it might not be someone pulling a prank on you... you might, in fact, have been kidnapped. Such things did not happen very often, but you have read enough articles and watched enough documentaries to know it is a very real possibility.

 

Another chill goes down your spine, and you redouble your efforts. Ignoring the severe nausea that the squirming causes, you bring the material up to your face and bites into something hard... tasting iron and metal.

 

Not deterred, you try to pry yourself loose from whatever it is keeping you restricted.

 


	2. A... nightmare?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, all you lovely reviewers! Have an early update!

Making no progress, the inner panic begins to truly surface. Breathing hard and fast, you keep pulling and jerking until perspiration is pouring down your back. Just as you bite back the tears and consider calling for help, the unknown voice speaks once more.

 

You snap out of your frenzy, body immediately on high alert.

 

Although there is no way you can not make out the words or their meaning, your mind immediately note that whomever it is, he or she is closer this time. You do not recognise the voice, and it is too distorted to try to figure out if it is male or female.

 

_Which makes no sense._

 

You open your mouth as it speaks again, flies buzzing on gravel, cats scratching on a window sill. You have no idea what the words are supposed to mean, the syllables are beyond oddly spoken accompanied by strange consonants.

 

 _Where the heck_ **are** _you?_

 

You try to control the mounting panic, but as you open your mouth once more to ask the person to speak coherently, your body is suddenly lit up in pain. This time the agonizing torrent spreads from the head and spiral downwards, the muscles at the back of your neck cramping in protest. Your e yes fly open in reflex as you start shouting, the back arching and spasming until it feels like it is going to snap. 

 

The pain is all consuming as you vomit violently, every muscle in your body contracting beyond control. You flop, thrash like a worm on a hook as the foreign words are spoken again, their meaning still beyond comprehension. 

 

This **has** to be a nightmare. You _**must**_ be dreaming. There can be **_no_** other explanation!

  
_GODS!_

 

Your conciousness slips - the body not able to withstand its torment.

 

The nonsensical words are once more repeated, a bit louder this time, but they start sounding further and further away.

 

The mind shuts down.

 

Your body is still twitching even as your head lolls limply to the side.

 


	3. The calm before the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy snowballs, people! 26 Kudos, 249 hits, and 2 bookmarks?! HOLY MOLY, I NEVER thought I'd be getting HALF of any of that this early on in the story! THANK YOU!!
> 
> To celebrate that (and because my fingers are itching) I hereby dedicate this (slightly longer) chapter to all you AMAZING people out there!

You awake with a loud groan this time. Not even the worst day that comes to mind can compare to just _how_ under the weather you are feeling right now. There is a deep ache in muscles you did not even know existed, and your neck seems to be swimming in molten lava. Exhaling with a grunt, you notice that your clothes stick to every body part like glue, and you have an ant farm residing in the left foot.

 

It is impossible to stifle another groan as you try to move, each and every muscle in your body screaming in protest as you move to free the foot from its prison. It cramps a little before blood slowly returns to all parts.

 

Still somewhat dazed, the first thing that comes to mind is that you must have slept in some sort of weird position. Reaching out for your alarm clock is more instinctive than anything, knowing that little piece of shit must have been what has woken you in the middle of the night. It is pitch black as you fumble and reach out your hand..

 

Only to realize you can not, and the other hand follows the movement.

 

_What the ..._

 

Slowly, a myriad of strange, blurry images starts playing like an old time film in the mind. Blinking, you remember the excrucating, never ending pain, a phantom whispering against your skin even now.

Reality comes crashing back like a bucket of ice cold water dumped over the head.

 

Where the hell _are_ you?

 

You lick cracked, dry lips, tongue sticking to the skin as you try to moisturise the rough surface. The effort is in vain, and you choke on your own spit as you let the tongue inside again.

 

Nothing can compare to just how thirsty, _parched,_ you feel right now.

 

 _What is going on here_?!

 

You concentrate, dig further beyond a hazy sea of torment and pitch black darkness. The search reveals crystal clear images of you heading to bed, pulling the covers over the chest and setting the alarm clock for 7AM. Nothing stands out- you went to sleep early, and even Mr Fluffins is right there on your pillow, a mix of fur and purring noises...

 

There is absolutely nothing of importance in your memories, nothing which would explain where you are or why.

 

_Think._

 

You have no stalker that you know of, not even someone interested enough in you, and no known assailants or rapists living in your small, rural town. No friends or family you know of would break into the apartment and whisk you off to somewhere either.

 

It is as if you simply had been laying in your bed one second, and then ended up here... the next.

 

_Right._

 

No, there has to be something you are missing here.

 

However, no matter how many times you search through the memories, replay every single little event, you come up with absolutely nothing that would explain you ending up bound in complete darkness. Not to mention your apartment building is well secured, and locked during the nights... and you have never, not even once, forgotten to lock your door, so the culprit or culprits must have broken in.

 

_None of it makes any sense._

 

One did not simply go to bed, and then wake up somewhere else!

 

You close your eyes again, not that it makes any difference, and try to think of all possibilities.

 

Pranks were ruled out at this point. Then... a botched robbery?

 

If that any of those scenarios were true, then why had you not woken up? You wake up from Mr Fluffins using his litter box for crying out loud! Not to mention the floorboards in your bedroom creaks like hell, and your bed even worse. Surely you would have woken up if someone broke into your apartment?

 

All of a sudden your eyes are forced open as a stab of _real_ pain spikes up from the left palm. It cramps shut in reflex, then it is temporarily forgotten as a flash of green emanates from your left hand. You feel your eyes go round as you stare at the bright green light show that is coming from _your left palm_.

 

_What in the..._

 

As the glowing intensify, a pressure all of a sudden starts building inside the hand's veins, million tiny needles prickling, slices of icy cold pain shooting up the arm.

 

Your eyes go impossibly round as the colour all of a sudden bursts out of the hand, tendrils of green writhing like snakes all over the place. The fascination, however, is cut short as the hand suddenly feel like it is going to explode from the inside. You start hollering as the pressure builds, reaches new heights, the light becoming blinding in its intensity. Tentacles of the eerie colour starting to create a vortex around itself.

 

“ **H-help! Anyone**!” You shout out, doing everything you can to try to stop the hand from doing... whatever it is that it is trying to pull off.

 

Then, just as you think ' _this is it',_ the vortex suddenly dies down, tentacles receding back into your palm.

 

Just like that, the room is back to its previous dark state. You blink frenetically, trying to draw breath without hyperventilating.

 

 _What in god's name_   _was_ _ **that**_?!

 

Staring at the now dull green colour your left hand is emanating that barely lights up anything, you are startled when a muffled sound comes from the left.

 

The heart almost stops for a second as your head snaps to the side. Not knowing what else to do, you hold out your glowing hand, using it as a flash light. Your arms shake from the effort as you try to locate the other person.

 

“ **Hello?** ” you croak out, “ **Someone there?** ”

 

Gods, but it hurt to speak!

 

“ **Ugh, yes**?” 'Someone' answers, your mind quickly deciding the voice belongs to a woman, but you do not recognise that soft pitch, so it belongs to no one you know.

 

_Where the hell is your mobile phone when you need it?!_

 

You have never wanted that little piece of shit more than right now.

 

The palm makes a crackling noise as you lower the hand, cradling the aching body part against yourself.

 

“ **Who're...** ” But the words die on your tongue as you are, again, interrupted by the hand lighting up like a disco ball.

 

“ **Oh for creator's sake, be quiet!** ” the woman shouts from somewhere, and you think you might see an outstretched hand.

 

You start reaching out for it, but as you do it suddenly feels like your hand explodes, dislocates and breaks simultaneously.

 

Slumping like a puppet whose strings have been cut, you know nothing more.

 

 


	4. Houston, we have a problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY MOTHER OF GOD! 350 reads?! 35 Kudos?! 3 Bookmarks?! HOLY COW, just... I am completely blown away by the response to this fic!!!! THANK YOU! *Swoons*

You know, there is a saying stating that what does not kill you makes you stronger...

 

However, when you wake this time, that statement feels like a far cry from reality. The muscles are still aching, sore, slow to respond along with a dull ache in your left palm. You groan, and open your eyes while lazily yawning, fully expecting that this time you have woken up for real.

 

But as the world comes into view, it is not your bedroom wall and all its posters that meets your eyes, nor is it the sight of a hungry Mr Fluffins...

 

Startled, your yawn is cut off half way through as you find your face inches away from a seemingly _very_ upset, very _real,_ face of Cassandra from the popular game and book series, Dragon age.

 

You blink, eyes going round, and when she does not disappear... The mouth forms an 'O' as you stare at the seeker, mind going blank.

 

“Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now” The video game character hisses, and leans forward.

 

_Huh...?_

 

Disbelief floods the system.

 

Are you still asleep? Or have you ended up in another dream? The chaos her seemingly real person creates in your mind skids to an abrupt halt as the warrior moves away from your face. You blink again, jaw still stack, distracted by the way the dimly lit room makes the shadows dance on her skin. Her very much _real_ looking skin.

 

 _She were_ _**never** _ _that detailed in the game, not even on ultra settings!_

 

Well, you should know. God knows you modded that game for hours upon hours.

 

You bite the lower lip, still not able to process it all. You can feel her eyes on you, the pressure of being at her scrutinization making it really hard to focus. Not to mention such a thing should not even possible in the first place, seeing how she is not even a real person _._

 

_Then why does her glaring make you so uncomfortable?_

 

“The conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended are dead.. except for you” She continues.

 

… and it is time for you to answer.

 

_Oh, okay. No biggie._

 

Breathe.

 

You can figure out how to solve the situation when you have woken up.

 

Now, stop hyperventilating, you have played Dragon age Inquisition enough times that you can talk your way through this in your sleep.

 

“You think I did it” Is what you manage to get out, always choosing that option no matter which character you played.

 

The words are followed by a racking cough as you realise how dry, raw, itchy, your throat is. It literally feels like the spit has turned into gravel, and it tastes _**beyond** _ foul.

 

So what happened in the dream is what happened in reality? Or is it the other way around?

 

_Ugh!_

 

“Stop!” A voice suddenly calls out, and you instantly recognise the feminine pitch.

 

It is the same woman who spoke to you earlier. There is a hazy recollection of her telling you to be quiet, and an outstretched hand.

 

_What the..._

 

Does that mean you were still dreaming when you thought you had been kidnapped? Or.. could this all be just one big, vivid dream? You having been kidnapped _does_ sound very far fetched...

 

“He isn't guilty of anything, _shemlen_! I was there when everything exploded and he...” The woman speaks, but you don't hear the rest because you zone out.

 

_Nothing makes any sense here._

 

Then it hits you.

 

Did she just say... 'he'?

 

_But you are not a..._

 

Reflexively you look down, only to have another moment of disbelief rush through your being. Your chest is flat, and not just flat it is...

 

You jaw goes slack as you stare at green, familiar clothing adorning a _very_ lean, _straight_ chest, a leather belt further down and … _oh._

 

The dots connect.

 

You have dreamed yourself up as a **male** _inquisitor._

 


	5. Lady luck does not smile on you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG OMG OMG! 50 KUDOS AND 6 BOOKMARKS and 481 hits?! Wow... just... *mind blown*
> 
> To celebrate that, have an early update!!! <3

Well.

 

_Congratulations._

 

Good thing this is all make pretend or you would have had a serious fit by now. At least you being a man confirms that the place _**is** _ imaginary.

 

But.. you changing gender creates a whole new level of awkward.

 

You stare at the flat chest, trying to wrap your head around _being_ a man, even in a dream. Shaking your head at yourself and your insane imagination, it does not even take a moment before you decide to make sure you wake up before having to use the bathroom... just **no, yuck, blarg!** You would rather die than actually having to _be_ a man.

 

Completely weirded out by looking down at your foreign, flat chest, you raise your head to look around....

 

Only to meet a piercing gaze that reminds you of a hawk's all seeing, round, predatory eyes.

 

The heart skips a beat. You feel like a child with its hand caught in the cookie jar, for some unfathomable reason.

 

There is no doubt to who those eyes belongs to. She is none other than the hero of Ferelden's follower, former chantry sister, and bard... Leliana. She is also the inquistion's spymaster.

 

Your heart skips another beat as you feel a chill going down the spine. Despite having her hood up, it is impossible to miss the way her eyes glitters intelligently inside. The gaze is cold, calculating, eyes narrowed. You have no doubt her rogue mind is analysing every little detail that happens in the room, and that means she can no doubt read all your emotions like an open book.

 

You instantly look down, another chill trickling down the spine.

 

Mind goes blank when her leather boots moves towards you with purposeful strides, chainmailed body circling you twice.

 

You can not help but shrink in on yourself. Her prescence is one of authority despite her not actually being _real_.

 

You can almost feel her closing in on you, a predator out on a hunt, and you are the prey.

 

Heart racing, you shift away, instinctively trying to make yourself as small as possible. It is no secret that you have never been good with people, and meeting a character from a game whilst being a man... Does not help in the least!

 

You swallow, and start coughing again, a ragged sound escaping your sore throat. The foul taste returns tenfold, and you are forced to fight an urge to gag.

 

This is getting ridiculous, you really need to wake up and go brush your teeth, then preferably have a strong drink... or ten.

 

_At least you are not a smoker._

 

Leliana leans back, crossing her arms. The way she just stands there, the entire room at her beck and call, her presence _that_ large..

 

Well. You steal a glance at her stern looking face, and realise that there is something about that gaze that both intimidates and thrills you. For some reason, your stomach flutters a bit, and you feel your cheeks heat up. Keeping eye contact becomes impossible, and so you lower your gaze to the floor.

 

_What was that?!_

 

You need to wake up. As in, **right now!**

 

You swallow, concentrate and manage not to choke on the dry spit. This dream is taking **way** too long to dissipate, and seeing how your hands remain shackled, you can not even pinch yourself awake. Not that pinching has worked before but... you are getting a tad bit desperate here.

 

 _Why could you not dream yourself up as... Kagome from 'Inuyasha, a feudal tale', for example?_ At least that would spare you all this pain, and scrutinization.

 

As to mock that wish, a flare of amethyst green catches everyone's attention.

 

The pain that follows is not as bad as it has been, but you still cradle the hand, biting into the lower lip to not whimper.

 

And, just like you knew she would, Cassandra returns and you try to keep the green... magic, anchor, thing, hidden from her view.

 

_Please, can you not be given the option to skip this particular cutscene?_

 

“Explain this!” Cassandra growls out and grabs your hand, throwing it into your lap.

 

“I... can't” you grit out, partly because of it being true, trying to discreetly avoid breathing directly on the enraged seeker.

 

“What do you mean you _can't?!”_ She snaps, fingers touching the hilt of her very _real_ looking sword.

 

“I don't know how it got there!” You exclaim, voice laced with desperation.

 

“You're lying!” Cassandra yells in response and grabs your arms.

 

Instant pain follows her steely grip. It is going to leave bruises, you just know it, but right now you care more about not breathing on her face.

 

“We need him, Cassandra” Leliana interfers, and she lets go, taking an angry step backwards.

 

You gnaw on your lower lip once more. Even if this is all just a dream, or hallucination, or whatever it is, that grip sure hurt real enough!

 

An undecipherable look pass between the rogue and warrior, then they narrow their eyes at you simultaneously.

 

You know from the game that this is the part where you need to speak, again.

 

_Well... Shit._

 


	6. The plot thickens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what... I'm going to stop yelling "OMG OMG OMG SO MANY READS, BOOKMARKS AND KUDOS", else I'll be screaming that at the top of my lungs all evening!

You go for the confusion option, because that is closest to how you feel right now.

 

“I don't understand” you croak out, the dull ache in your hand less prominent now that your upper arms throb.

 

The honesty in your answer must have been translated to something else, because Leliana's eyes soften a bit, and she leans slightly backwards on the balls of her feet.

 

“Do you remember what happened? How this all began?”

 

In your peripheral vision Cassandra crosses her arms as well, snorting to herself in a very unlady-like manner.

 

You look down at your marked hand and flex it, anchor still pliant and dormant.

 

Here comes the tricky part.

 

_Which basically means you have no idea what to say._

 

You have no recollection of anything past the point of pulling the covers over your head... and waking up in pain and darkness. There is no way you can speak truthfully either. Somehow you doubt any of these two would respond very well to you explaining that they are video game characters, and that you might have been drugged or kidnapped in real life.. No, such a thing might even have you prematurely executed... or perhaps locked up for life. Even hinting that you might be asleep, and this is all make pretend, will not be well received.

 

However, you can not answer as the 'real' inquisitor would either. You have never been to the Fade, you never saw that Divine's.. spirit, ghost, whatever it was and you are a _very_ poor liar. Half truths, yes those you can do having grown up in a dysfunctional family, but to outright lie when it is not a matter of life or death?

 

 _That is way beyond your ability_.

 

So what the hell **do** you say? And if you deviate too much from how the original dialogue flows, will that alter anything?

 

… _Wait, what?_

 

You need to stop forgetting that none of this is _real_ , meaning that even if you do alter something, it will not make a difference.

 

_This entire **place** is not **real**.  Stop thinking so much. _

 

“No. I don't remember anything besides a woman...” Close enough.

 

Leliana unfurls her arms.

 

“A woman?”

 

“Yes, I remember someone reaching out for me, but then...”

 

 **_See?_ ** You can do this!

 

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.” Cassandra interfers, and the rogue nods.

 

With one last look at you, she turns and heads out of the room, two inquisition soldiers closing the door behind her.

 

You shake your head at that. There is no way you are going to stay in this dream, and you sure as hell do not want to see any rifts, and you most _definitely_ do **not** want to see the Breach.

 

_Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up!_

 

You fight the urge to hyperventilate as Cassandra comes back, gloved hands starting to fiddle with your manacles.

 

“What _did_ happen?” You whisper, trying to not breathe directly on her face.

 

The fingers stop for a moment.

 

“It... will be easier to show you” She sighs out, all anger seemingly deflated, before resuming her task.

 

Not letting you enjoy your hands' newfound freedom, the seeker roughly grabs them and neatly binds the two together.

 

You blink at that and resist to struggle as she tugs on a piece of rope that hangs out like a small leash.

 

_Whoa! HOLD ON A MINUTE HERE!_

 

A panicked whimper escapes your throat as she instead tugs on one of your sore arms, more force behind it this time.

 

 _No!_ You do not **want** to be here, be _you, a him, the herald and inquisitor,_  you do not **want**  to go outside, you do not even...!

 

The seeker snorts at your effort, maneuvering around the movements, pulling you along with the strength of a trained veteran. You almost lose your balance as you rise, nose hitting her armour with a loud pang.

 

_Ugh!_

 

Mind in an uproar, nose throbbing, you fight to not give in to the strong urge to bolt as she drags you towards the exit. The legs are unsteady, wobbly like those of a newborn foal, and their coordination is... off. You struggle to learn this new pattern, having to fight not tripping over your own feet with each step.

 

_What is wrong with this body?_

 

Cassandra huffs, continuing to drag you along as you try to dig your heels into the stone floor without much success. As the pair of you make it to the doorway, you suddenly hear that unknown woman snort loudly from behind. Your head turns on instinct.

 

 _ **Nothing**_ can prepare you for the sight that follows.

 

There is a beautiful, female elf sitting a cell between two other, empty ones, a pair of delicate hands bound in front of her. She wears a completely different outfit than you do, threads in silver depicting Mythal's tree sewn into a mossy green Dalish hunter outfit.

 

You vividly remember that outfit.

 

_You created it._

 

She meets your flabbergasted stare, green eyes unreadable.

 

The woman is none other than your elven inquisitor.

 

_**Ma'edh'lin.** _

 


	7. The biggest 'nope' of all times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is so much fun posting each chapter - afterwards I'm always eagerly awaiting more reads, more kudos, more love from you all, it is like a drug to me xD
> 
> Not to mention, I'm literally squealing at how clever all the little twists and turns feel throughout the story, going to be so awesome when you get to read it all! :D
> 
> I'm a sucker for a well thought-through story so - GIVE ME CRITIQUE, let me know what your thoughts are, please tell me what you like... and don't! 
> 
> I will ALWAYS strive towards becoming a better author for my readers <3

You know it is rude to stare, and probably worse not moving despite the seeker's insistance, but right now it is impossible to wrap your head around the fact that you are staring at your **own** creation. Even the mods you created in DAI modmaker and 3D program are evident... from the way her hair hangs down on one side and is perfectly shaved on the other, a mod you tweaked to perfection, to the way you can see that she is much more feminine than the average Thedosian elf. That particular mod took weeks to perfect script-wise, and now the proof of all that effort is sitting right there.

 

**Living.**

 

_Breathing._

 

Ma'edh'lin looks to the warrior behind you and back, eyes narrowing. She does not move any more than that, and does not speak. She is more... real than anything, in this moment.

 

She makes your head spin.

 

Thoughts are clashing with each other, a war between logic and disbelief. Here you are in this.. whatever this place is, thinking of your own creation as a real person... when you clearly remember sitting by your desk, eating a tuna sandwich while perfecting all those mods, hours upon hours just making sure it was perfectly implemented into code.

 

 _Holy crap,_ does not even begin to describe it.

 

All the creative moments leading up to the creation of her, are crystalline clear in your mind. From the way you remember playing her all those evenings with mr Fluffins in your lap, you watching her fall in love with Solas, him breaking up with her, her chasing him down, and... at the end of Trespasser, you watched her without her left arm swear to chase Solas down and save his sorry ass.

 

_Double crap._

 

You look down at those delicate hands.

 

Ma'edh'lin's left hand is unmarked, and yours _..._ is **_not_.**

 

A strange thought enters your mind as you all of a sudden wonder if she knows the body you are in, possessing, or whatever you can call it.

 

She had defended you, after all...

 

“Ugh. We don't have time for escapism, prisoner” Cassandra's voice snaps, a vice-like grip on your right arm following.

 

With her trademark disgusted noise, she literally drags you out the room, slamming the door shut herself with her other free hand. The shutting of the door is loud, and the soldiers by the doorway skitters as she stomps by. You blink at their very... real reaction, mind still reeling as the soldiers quickly get back in line, and salute. You try not to overly think of the fact that they scowl at you.

  
_Massively so._

 

 _**If** _ this all turns out to be more than just a dream... if this is in fact reality, then you might have just butterfly-ed everything to hell by the way you have behaved so far.

 

 _But that is a_ **big** _if._

 

You are allowed no more time to ponder such a thing as the two of you exit the church, and the brightness of the outside world welcomes you like the full headlights of an autotruck. You hold up your hands in reflex, trying, and failing, to blink away the big black blobs blocking your vision.

 

Blinking frenetically, you hear, rather than see, Cassandra stopping.

 

“We call it the Breach. It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour”

 

You know this dialogue by heart, and yet there is a certain sinking feeling accompanying her words.

 

She turns, and you make sure to look clueless, like you do not know what caused it, who the responsible is and...

 

_Shit._

 

If this turns out to be really _real_ then...

 

_**Horse shit.** _

 

_Solas._

 

Oh hell no. **Nope**. _NOT_ going to happen. You are **not** going to face him.. Dream, reality, different planet, dimension or whatever!

 

Your skills of deception are abysmal, not even close to being able to fool a person such as him, and... dear god... you are a human _**man**_ _._ He is not going to automatically warm up to you like he did Ma'edh'lin on your last play through, and seeing how you are both human and a man, he might not warm up at you _at all!_

 

_Donkey poo._

 

NOPE. N-O-P-E. NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE!

 

“...conclave”

 

_What...?_

 

The mounting panic must be showing, which would look realistic at this point, but...

 

“An.. explosion can do that?” You manage to get out, still hoarse, trying to mentally tell yourself, or more like scream at yourself, to wake up.

 

_This can not be happening._

 

**WAKE UP ALREADY!**

 

“This one did” she adds grimly, “and unless we act, the breach may very well grow until it swallows the world”

 

 _It will not_ , _not right now at least_ , you reflexively think, mind in a frenzy.

 

_Wake up! Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up!_

 

As you take an instinctive step backwards, almost hyperventilating, the left hand suddenly lights up. You have no time to react, or brace yourself, as a lance of white hot pain shoots up the arm, the force of it paralysing in its intensity. The anchor makes a crackling noise as you fall forward with a gasp and a shout, vaguely aware of the Breach making a similar noise in the distance.

 

Well, you knew that humongous thing was going to pulse and expand once you went outside, but...

 

_God, but you can not stand it much longer!_

 

How did the real inquisitor stand it?! She had the anchor in her hand for so long... how did she manage to not go insane?! 

 

You have no sense of time as you cradle the glowing appendage and flail about. Through a sheen of tears, you notice that you can actually _**see**_ the mark spreading. The intricate rune-like pattern looks like it is slicing the skin apart as it spreads ever upwards with an _alarmin_ _g_ pace.

 

Face it.

 

You are dying.

 

**For real this time.**

 


	8. Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aka the chapter no one wanted, but is still needed for us to get to know our OC a bit better. 
> 
> Is the pacing in this chapter less 'off' than the rest of the fic? Am I getting there? Still needing to work on it? If that is the case then let me know and tell me more specifically how, so I can improve :D
> 
> I accept ALL critique! <3

 

Cassandra all of a sudden appears in your peripeal vision from seemingly nowhere. It is all you have the time to take note of as all the air is knocked out of your lungs. Every nerve ending goes instantly numb as you slump forward with a small, choked noise. Much like a ragdoll, you land in a heap of sprawled limbs, hands unable to brace against the impact.

 

Your nose is what hits the ground first, cold mixing with instant pain. The ground is hard, unforgiving, _real,_  against your throbbing nose. Trying, and failing, to make the body obey, you fight to draw breath. In reality, all that happens is that your eyes feel like they're bugging out of the head, and your limbs twitch while you gape like a fish on dry land.

 

_At least the anchor stopped going rampant._

 

But now you can not feel anything besides the lungs beginning to burn from the lack of air.

 

_What the hell just happened?_

 

You definitely do not remember anything like this ever happening in the game!

 

Eyes watering as you struggle to draw breath, your bound hands twitch, spasm, moving towards the throat as you feebly turn your head. The lungs feel like they have caught on fire as you struggle to get up, world spinning, everything turned hazy and … whoa, is Cassandra _glowing_?!

 

“What,” you wheeze the instant you manage to draw a slight breath, “did you do?”

 

The head feels swollen and heavy like lead as you draw another tiny breath, and move to wipe your nose. The sleeve comes back red.

 

Glowing Cassandras not withstanding, since when did a person _bleed_ in a dream? You wipe it again, almost as to make sure, and the material turns even redder.

 

_Uh...._

 

With great effort you force down more air into the lungs, vision slowly clearing, unable to stop staring at the red stain. All feeling gradually returns, but it is with the pace of a snail on a crossing.

 

With round eyes, you take another blessed breath and look up at the Breach. Sickly green swirls up there along with its trademark floating boulders, and the sight is no less ominous than in the game. You blink as you feel a faint vibration in your hand in response to a surge of green heading towards god knows where.

 

You shudder, want to hug yourself.

 

That giant hole in the sky sure looks real _._ Real... and very eerie. You know this is nothing but the beginning. 

 

And yet denying its existence, or your own, here in Thedas feels like the only thing you _can_ do, the only thing keeping your head above water.

  
After all, there is only so much a person can take.

 

“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads... and it is killing you.” Cassandra supplies all of a sudden.

 

_No shit, Sherlock._

 

“It may be the key to stopping all this... but we don't have time” She sounds like a recording at this point.

 

It is with great effort you stop yourself from not giving a damn about the game script, dream, whatever, and just... bash your head into something until you wake up or .... something happen. Whatever feels better than accepting this place, dimension, world or whatever it is, as real. You are a modern girl from a modern time, your brain is not used to handling... being a world's one and only saviour.

 

_God._

 

You want to, no need to, press stop, pause, **ANYTHING!**

 

_And you need to speak again._

 

Alright. Take a deep breath, relish the feeling and stop over-thinking it.

 

Just say something.

 

_Go for approval._

 

“Ok. I understand”

 

Cassandra looks genuinely relieved, and has, thank god, stopped glowing.

 

“Then...?”

 

“I'll do what I can. Whatever it takes” You parrot the real inquisitor's dialoge.

 

_What else are you supposed to do?_

 

She nods, and then hesitantly hands you a blue, somewhat dirty, piece of cloth, her eyes more apologetic than you would have thought them possible at this early stage of the game.

 

_Early stage of... there is no stage of anything here!_

 

You stare at the textile, unable to do anything with it. She seems to realise the same instant you do, and take it back, gently dabbing away all the blood that has dried around the mouth and chin.

 

 _NO._ _NO_ _! The sensation_ _can not_ _be real._

 

_Not real not real not real not real not real not real_

 

Your legs are unsteady, but functional as she helps you stand. Your nose is not happy with the way the cold air blows across it, sending small tendrils of pain shooting up the forehead.

 

She nods as you look to her for directions and turns, you walking like a zombie after her broad back.

 

_And what was up with her glowing?!_

 

What did happen back there? What could have possibly caused you to having your breath knocked out like that? Cassandra had not been close enough to hit you, and she is not a magic user.

 

_So what the hell are you missing here?_

 

Not like you can ask her and then proceed to explain that in the game she did notdo such a thing.

 

_Game...?_

 

Is that what this is? A game?

 

You just do not know what to think at this point, and no sane person would go about just accepting Thedas as a real place the first thing they did.

 

_But what more proof do you need?_

 

Focusing on your breathing, and not going insane from all the questions building up inside, you make sure to avoid eye contact with anyone you pass as you scurry after the seeker. You refuse to let your strange legs stop you from keeping up the pace.

 

 _And why_ _did_ _Cassandra glow?_

 

The question will not stop nagging at the back of your mind as you hurry past the onlookers who shout threats and hurls insults at you. Keeping your eyes trained on the ground, you try to not think of the way the inhabitants view you, a human who supposedly walks like a drunk and have a glowing, magical hand and.... _ugh._

 

_It is all a jumbled mess, is it not?_

 

And Cassandra glowed _._

 

_Shut up, brain!_

 

A snowflake lands on your cheek, and you shudder, picking up the pace, forcing the legs to cooperate.

 

Who in their right mind would accept a video game as reality? Who in their right mind would accept that magic, dragons and elves were real and that you, and you alone, held the fate of the world in your hands?

 

…  **No one.**

 

 

At least no one sane would accept such a thing. Perhaps the Mary Sues in the fanfictions you have been reading would readily accept plopping up in Thedas, already having headcanoned the game as a real place, but fanfictions were just that... _fiction_.

 

_Imaginary._

 

You fight the urge to groan because you sure as hell did _not_ end up as a Mary Sue. In fact... you did not even end up as _a woman_.

 

It is reluctantly you reassure yourself that with the knowledge you posses having already played the game, you know the outcome of all events, which made everything much easier. You can just play along, stick to game dialogue, until you figure out a way to get home.

 

It is all fine, is it not?

 

_Besides Cassandra glowing._

 

Well, besides that, but you know what will happen, you just need to keep it together, then get back home.

 

_Somehow._

 

Inhale.

 

You try to comfort yourself with the fact that you already know everything that will happenat least two years into the future, which is beyond the time you need to figure out a way to wake up, or whatever you needed to do to get back home. Though even with effort, it is hard to accept things as they are, hard to not trip on your own feet, hard not to simply run away from the tremedous pressure of being a person of importance. Everything about Thedas is the opposite of everything you know, and have known.

 

_A friendly reminder, but you need to exhale as well._

 

Just follow Cassandra's back. You have got this. Keep it together.

 

_But what about Cassandra glowing?_

 

No. Focus on placing one foot in front of the other.

 

_Breathe._

 

As the two of you near the exit gates, you brush away a strand of hair that irritates the side of your face and gnaw on your dry, cracked lower lip.

 

Real or not, surely there must have been some sort of mistake here – you saw Ma'edh'lin in that cell, and she is supposed to be... well, you.

 

This game, place, world, whatever this is, belongs to her. _She_ is the real inquisitor!

 

_'Real' has had some odd meanings lately._

 

**Shut up, brain!**

 

Speaking of oddities, who are you, _really_? An otherworlder? A spirit possessing a Thedosian body? The game master? A player?

 

Until this all solves itself and you wake up at home... what do you do? You are a man for some god damn reason, and you have no idea how to be a man, not to mention you are the _inquisitor,_ someone meant to lead and make tough decisions. An important person. Surely there are a lot of responsibilites that comes with such a grand title that was not depicted fully in the game.

 

You blanch at that.

 

There is a very real reason why you chose to remain single and stayed at home at all times, why you lived alone with nothing but a cat, why you chose to forgo all other responsibilites. On a good day you could barely find the motivation to do laundry and household chores, on a bad day... Well. Let's just say that you have been prone to panic from the mere thought of having to get up from the bed some days. You worked as a website manager, and had a side job as a café maid, for crying out loud!

 

_This can not be happening._

 

No. Keep it together.

 

_Breathe._

 

Everything feels far away, unreal, distorted.

 

You have _nothing_ to offer this world, these people, no skills that would help you survive, no motivation... nothing.

 

_What are you even doing here?_

 

Seeing how you have ended up as a man, what does that mean? Does it mean that you have ended up as one the men you created or just yourself, but as a man? You did start one playthrough as a dalish elf mage, and you have a faint recollection of one character being a male dwarf, rogue and did you not create a male Qunari, warrior, as well?

 

Though you have turned out to be a male inquisitor in Thedas, you are most definitely still human and definitely no mage. You would feel different if you had not only changed gender but also race and ended up having the ability to wield magic, would you not? Not to mention magic in itself is illogical, irrational, as unnatural as can be. All the fanfictions where their OCs' were mages, the authors described their feeling of it as a vibration in the air, and something about seeing or reading auras and...

 

You feel completely normal. Yourself, but with some quirky legs and an achy hand. If trudging through decimetres of snow in the middle of the winter behind a game character could be called normal, that is.

 

It hits you then that you never created a human male inquisitor.

 

_And Ma'edh'lin turned up just the way you created her, does that not mean that you..._

 

**SHUT UP ALREADY, BRAIN!**

 

You are you, a human woman.. inside a man's body. Nothing more, nothing less!

 

Being so distracted has you almost walking straight into Cassandra's steely back as she stops all of a sudden. You blink, mind blank for a moment as she turns and hands you an opened water skin.

 

_Water._

 

With a primal noise rising from the back of your throat, you reach out and roughly grab the skin. Not wasting any time, you hold it up to the best of your ability, and greedily gulp down the cold, heavenly good, liquid.

 

Half of it is coughed out, but you do not slow down the pace or care. It is such a relief to finally get to drink, you do not bother to wipe away the water dribbling all over your face and clothes. You make sure to rinse your mouth with the last drops, hoping your breath is decent enough until you figure out how to... brush your teeth.

 

Another reason to miss home.

 

Brushing your teeth is such a mundane task, one you have taken for granted all your life. But such a thing thing may not exist or be possible in this... world, dreamscape, land, whatever it is.

 

You _really_ miss it.

 

And... what about plumbing? _Oh gods_. Thedosians do not have proper toilets, do they?

 

**Shit.**

 

_Literally._

 

Thank god you do not need to go. For several reasons.

 

_Ugh!_

 

You feel a headache coming on, but at least such thoughts keeps an impending panic attack at bay.

 

“The people of Haven mourn our most holy, Divine Justinia, head of the chantry. The conclave... it was hers” Cassandra suddenly speaks as the two of you start walking again.

 

You give her back the empty waterskin, waiting for her to continue, but she turns quiet. You slightly wince as she hands the waterskin to the person you recognise as Haven's requisiton officer.

 

Will you ever get used to how **real** everything is?

 

Will you be forced to get used to being Thedosian? Just the thought is enough to make your mind spin.

 

_Thedas is **nothing** like the 'real' world._

 

“It was a chance for peace between the mages and templars” Cassandra continues.

 

“She brought their leaders together.. and now they're dead”

 

You nod, more to yourself than anything, wishing, hoping with all that you are that all of this is going to end up having been nothing but a dream.

 

You do not belong here.

 

_You are not Thedosian._

 

Absentmindedly, the two of you head down a rough path for no more than a few minutes before you reach the in-game gates on that bridge where you play your inquisitor for the very first time.

 

A man you recognise as some random npc from the game, opens the gate. He outright glares at you, hurling different slurs as you pass. You are too distracted to take any note of them.

 

Cassandra does not seem to react at the soldier's behaviour, she merely sticks to her in-game monologue.

 

“We lash out, like the sky, but we must think beyond ourselves. As she did.”

 

_Yeah..._

 

**And as you must, or you will be driven insane.**

 

 


	9. What the bloody hell, Cassandra?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even begin to describe how thrilled I am too see 11 bookmarks, 83 kudos and over 900 HUNDRED reads! MY GOD!

Once again, disbelief floods your system.

 

This can not, should not, be happening. People did not just plop up inside of _**games**_. That happened in fanfictions, yes, but not... in real life. Just like people do not exist for real in games, earthlings did not simply end up inside a video game.

 

You almost bump into Cassandra's back (again!) as you come to and realise she has stopped.

 

“Until the Breach is sealed” she speaks with a steely voice, turns and draws a dagger from its sheath on her side.

 

You blink and reflexively hold out your hands.

 

The warrior neatly slices through the rope as if it was made from nothing but butter. You try not to think too much about how sharp that makes the weapon, or how _very real_ it is that people in this world use such sharp objects on an every day basis.

 

_Already so accepting of this place?_

 

“There will be a trial. I can promise no more”

 

You nod, flexing the hands while looking at the left palm. Blinking, you rub the sore areas where the skin has been chafed, and shudder at the feeling.

 

_It feels **real.**_

 

“Come, it is not far”

 

_Keep it together._

 

“Where are you taking me?”

 

_Well, that **is** a logical question, game script or no._

 

But the seeker does not reply, simply waves you forward.

 

_Breathe._

 

“The mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach” she says instead.

 

You reluctantly nod again, and instead of running away, which feels like an extremely tempting idea, you settle with getting back in line behind her once more.

 

Her monologue feels reassuring for some reason.

 

“Open the gate! We're heading into the valley!” Cassandra suddenly bellows, startling the soldiers in front of you.

 

Both scurry towards the gate handle like skittish deer.

 

You are thankful that they barely even look at you as you pass, all they do is stare at your glowing hand, eyes wide and glassy.

 

You flush for some reason and try to hide your hand, though not sure why.

 

Not looking ahead, however, almost causes you to walk straight into another pair of soldiers who are running in the opposite direction, yelling that it is 'the end of the world'.

 

What is it with you and walking into people? Your nose has _just_ stopped hurting, be a bit more aware and try to not get caught inside your mind so much! That is all fine when you do nothing but sit in front of the computer all day but here...

 

_Such a thing might get you injured, or worse.. killed._

 

You heart skips a beat, and a chill travels down the spine.

 

_What happens when you die in Thedas and is not Thedosian?_

 

Do you even **want** to know?

 

 _No. You really do_ **not**.

 

Cassandra looms ahead, and so you clamp down on whatever emotion that must have been displayed on your face since a mighty scowl blooms on hers. With a snort, Cassandra style, she beckons you to hurry. You bite the lower lip, and start runing after the annoyed Nevarran.

 

It is hard to not wince each time you pass something burning, red, orange flames licking the various broken debris on the ground, a billowing black cloud of smoke rising in its wake. The stench of the smoke is making your nose scrunch up and eyes water even as you hurry past it.

 

_It sure smells real enough._

 

**Shut up, brain.**

 

“AAAAH!” You suddenly cry out as a spike of pure unadulterated pain shoots up like the slice of a knife from your palm all the way up to the shoulders.

 

_How could you have forgotten this part?_

 

Your legs buckle and you fall forward like a heavy stone, landing flat on your stomach, face first, arms and hands somewhere in between.

 

Tears pour out of the eyes as the ground turns a bright red. You instinctively move so you can cradle the pulsating hand, pressing it against your chest as if the grip could somehow force the mark to stop  spreading. Gritting your teeth, trying not to scream, you roll over to the side with a loud cry.

 

The pain is all consuming even as you press the burning appendage against yourself with all your might.

 

Then all of a sudden the pain stops as the air, once more, is seemingly knocked out your lungs. You might have gasped if you had the ability but as it stands, you can do nothing but wheeze as you are all but hauled to your feet. Your body is slow to react and once again, every part of you has gone numb.

 

_What does that mean? What did she do?_

 

Fighting to stay standing, to stay consious, you focus on trying to clear away the blur that has draped itself like a curtain over your vision. The haze clears in what feels like an eternity of blinking and gaping like a fish, revealing Cassandra looking at you with something akin to sympathy. You feel this bone-deep exhaustion rolling through every muscle like the opening of a floodgate. Blinking, trying to keep standing, you look to Cassandra and can not stifle a long, deep yawn.

 

_She is glowing._

 

Not that you are complaining here, her glowing made your hand stop hurting, but... what the hell _does that mean?!_

 

She **never** glowed in the game!

 

“The pulses are coming faster now” She interrupts your overloaded mind, voice soft as she pulls out another handkerchief and hands it to you.

 

You blink at her, owlishly, and am finally able to inhale a massive gulp of air. Blessed, blessed air! 

 

As the exhaustion gives way to a slow, normal state once more, you watch the way the glow dies down.

 

 _What the bloody_ _**hell,** _ _Cassandra?!_

 

Like you expected she would, she turns and starts walking briskly ahead, not paying you attention or answering any of your questions. 

 

 _Not that you have any idea_ _how to ask them._

 

“The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear... the more demons we face” she says with her back to you.

 

It is somewhat reassuring that she returns to in-game dialogue even if your mind is reeling from the fact that she so totally deviated from the game's canon events. You barely take note of the fact that you put the piece of cloth into a pouch hanging on your waist's belt, not sure what else to do.

 

_Well, there is one question she might answer._

 

“How **did** I survive the blast?” You manage to get out, energy and feeling still returning to every limb.

 

“They said you and that other elf stepped out of a rift, then the two of you fell unconscious. They also said a woman was in the rift behind you... no one knows who she was.”

 

Two fell out of... Wait.. 

 

You did? _**With**_ Ma'edh'lin?!

 

_That's not how the game goes!_

 

You have no time to potentially freak out over such a game breaking event as the ground suddenly gives way beneath your feet, followed by a loud, rumbling, noise.

 

_You really need to stop forgetting these important events!_

 

Your right shoulder hits something hard and too solid as you tumble around like a ragdoll amongst the debris. Instant numbness follows along a sharp pain, rendering the entire part of your right side unresponsive. You land in an ungraceful heap, managing to not only hit your shoulder again but also falling flat on your face.

 

You can both smell and see the puddle of blood covering the ground as you groan and put the unmarked hand over the nose. With a painful huff, you exhale into the icy ground, a bubbling at the back of your throat following.

 

 _What the hell is_ _**wrong** _ _with this version of the game?!_

 

You are pretty sure none of your inquisitors injured themselves as much as you! In fact, you do not remember them injuring themselves this early in the game **at all!**

 

_Did you break the game?_

 

You groan, and simultainously hiss as you slowly get up. Not knowing what else to do, you break loose a small piece of ice and press it against your pouring nose.

 

_Shit. You might just have._

 

You want to cry so badly right now. There seems to be nothing else you wish for as desperately as you wish to curl up in a fetal position and bawl your eyes out. 

 

“Ugh” you hear Cassandra say as the world tilts, right side following like a lump of dead flesh.

 


	10. Overwhelmed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uhm.. not sure if anyone reads the notes but... THANK YOU FOR ALL THE KUDOS AND READS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3 <3

Like the embarrassing, dumbfounded idiot you feel like, you do not realise what happens until a second too late.

 

“FU...” is all you get out before the curse turns into an unintelligible shout.

 

Cassandra has, apparently, lifted you up and somehow fixed your shoulder, all feeling instantly flooding back to the right side like a swarm of fire beetles.

 

That is the last straw. The push over the edge.

 

Unable to suppress the onslaught of emotions that follows, your eyes tear up as a wail erupts from the back of your throat. Without any sort of coherent thought, you launch your face straight into the comfort and grounding that Cassandra's shoulder offers, hands latching onto the front of her armour. Not caring about decorum in the least or the fact that you are _hugging_ a video game character, you cling to the warrior's front, allowing yourself to bawl your eyes out against the hard panes of her armour. Blood pours out of your nose and mixes with snot on the cold metal, but you can not find it in you to even remotely care.

 

The seeker is stiffer than a brick wall beneath your fingers, but you keep clinging to her as the past days' events catch up with your mind.

 

God, but you can not seem to _stop_ crying.

 

You press harder against her solid form as the sobs turn hysterical, her shoulder creating a barrier between yourself and a meltdown.

 

“Stay behind me!” Cassandra all of a sudden shouts, shoving you off her so abruptly you fall to the side, landing just as ungracefully as the last time.

 

_What the...?_

 

Through the blur of tears, you watch as she draws her sword and shield so effortlessly, it's almost like the beginning of a dance.

 

Oh... right. Demons.

 

You sniffle, and try to reign it in, try to calm down.

 

 _Yes, you_ _**really** _ _need to stop forgetting these things!_

 

Pivoting, Cassandra brutally charges the fade creature, pummeling the back of her shield into its misshapen head. It screeches in pain, clawing at itself, and you wince at the sound. With a ferocious growl, It bounces right back into action, slashing its... claws at the warrior.

 

She defly parry with her shield, and slash at it.

 

Standing up with another sniffle you are unable to compeltely stifle, you veer back, left palm against your formerly injured shoulder. A torrent of fear overrrides whatever emotion that had you bawling your eyes out.

 

_You have no survival skills. Nothing on you that can keep you alive._

 

You have never even once tried to fight anyone or anything, not even in school or during defense class did you fight back. You hate conflicts. You avoid people. You never even watched documentaries.

 

 _You have_ nothing _to offer Thedas._

 

It is ridiculous that you have ended up as the inquisitor, you can not even speak up for yourself in this world where people live and breathe battles and war.

 

_There is no way you will survive in such a world._

 

Your body enters full fight or flight mode, heart thundering in your ears.

 

You sniffle again, and your legs shake from the adrenaline overload.

 

As if the universe is trying to mock you, the ice suddenly starts bubbling right in front of you with some sort of green goop.

 

You tense, adrenaline very much alive, pulsating through every vein.

 

_This is it._

 

This is the moment in the game where the inquisitor picks up their weapon of choice based on their proffession... and fight.

 

_But you are not a Thedosian._

 

You have never held a bow, you have never fought with a sword and most certainly have never used any magic.

 

_Is the air getting thicker to breathe?_

 

There is no doubt that you would choose to bolt if not for the fact that all escape routes are blocked by copious amounts of rocks and debris. You tremble as the ice hisses and sputters around that sickly green spot, a demon seemingly crawling out of it.

 

You take another step backwards and absentmindedly scratch at the itchy left palm, muscles taut, body ready to brave anything to get away from the living nightmare revealing itself in front of it.

 

Heart racing beyond control, lower lip quivering, you hiccup as the demon looks at its arms, and around itself, almost as if sentient enough to study itself and its surroundings. It then looks up and locks its gaze with you.

 

 _You are trapped_.

 

A tiny voice at the back of your mind is screaming at you to shout for help.

 

_Even if you do... who will come?_

 

The demon narrows what you believe is its eyes, and lets out a loud, shrill screech. You literally feel your left eardrum burst, a numbness and trickling sensation following. You put your hand against the side of your throat where the feeling comes from. It returns wet with red blood.

 

You fight to just keep breathing, and the creature studies you, eyes following your hand even as it drops to your side. It flexes its claws, and your heart leaps in terror as you notice they are dripping with acid that makes the ice sizzle. It slowly raises its right (paw?) and slithers slowly towards your shaking form.

 

You press yourself against the hard rocks, too scared out of your wits to dare look away from the monster coming towards you.

 

_Do something for fuck's sake!_

 

You glance to the side, making sure to keep the demon in your far peripeal vision.

 

What if... you turn out to be a mage? How do you even handle such a thing? A rogue, ok, you can live with that, a warrior would be alright as well, even with all that fancy sword waving, but magic.. that goes against every rule, every norm, everything that makes modern life... modern.

 

There is no such thing as 'magic', and there is a reason there are people doing science in the NASA, not waving magic wands around and… frankly, it is one thing to accept that this place is as real as could be for the moment, but it is another entirely to accept that you could wield something as unnatural and unreal, as magic.

 

 _Wake up girl, you are in_ _**Thedas** _ _, not on planet Earth!_

 

The monstrous being entering your mid peripheral vision is what snaps you out of your pondering. The creature is closing in on you, and you desperately look to Cassandra, hoping she can end her fight already and come to the rescue.

 

 _Fuck all those fanfictions with all those Mary Sues stating that it was cool to be here, picking up their weapon while mastering it instantly. Fuck all those who could just pick up a weapon without hurting themselves in the process, who were not afraid of these bloody nightmare-creatures!_ _They are all **insane!**_

 

You are a modern woman from planet Earth living in a modern apartment, a woman who likes playing video games and reading fanfiction or programming. That is as much excitement you need in your life!

 

 _This is_ _**beyond** _ _overkill!_

 

You watch in mute horror as the demon nears, then the anchor suddenly crackles, the pain a sharp reminder that you are, in fact, in a very deadly situation.

 

The demon raises one of its clawed hands, and it is _too close now,_ jaws wide open, mouth full of pointy teeth.

 

_What do you do?_

 

**_Do something!_ **

 

“Holy shit” You gasp out, self preservation causing you to throw yourself to the side.

 

You end up ungracefully, awkwardly sprawled on the weapon crate.

 

The demon growls, and quickly turn, swiping a … paw? Against your form.

 

You yelp and instinctively roll away from the danger. As to further mock the situation, gravity is not on your side as you do. The world turns and you fall on the side of the chest, legs and arms seemingly everywhere in a pile of snow.

 

_Why the bloody hell could you not have ended up as a Mary Sue?!_

 

With a gasp, you scramble to get up. When your head fully emerges from the pile of snow you look up you see... because of course you do, **an oaken staff.**

 


	11. Displaced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! I have a BETA! And guess what? It's none other than RikaDivani! https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikaDivani  
> https://rikadivani.tumblr.com/
> 
> Go check out her works and make sure to follow her - She is AMAZING and her works are incredibly well written! 
> 
> This chapter would NOT be as good as it is without her! <3

Gritting your teeth at the grim hilarity of the situation, you barely have the time to grab said object and move away before sharp talons literally shred the crate you were splayed upon.

 

As wood splinters all over the place, you quickly crawl backwards, holding the staff out in front of you like a shield. You might not know how to use magic or fight, but this giant stick should be enough to block some of the creature's attacks.

 

_Just hold out until rescue comes._

 

Breathe.

 

As if god can hear your prayers, Cassandra appears like an angel of mercy, thrusting her sword right through the demon’s midsection. With a roar that has your one undamaged ear ringing, the demon instantly dissolves in a cloud of tiny green flakes.

 

You blink, then wince as you rub away the blood on your hand with some snow and get up by using the staff as a crutch.

 

That was...

 

Cassandra turns and glares, and whatever words you might have known to describe it, instantly disappear. The Seeker's eyes are wild from the battle, hair disheveled, sword still raised high. You can’t help but take a step backwards, wet snow all but inching down your back. You decidedly ignore the chill it leaves behind.

 

"It's over” you tentatively speak, holding out your hands in a gesture of surrender, grip on the staff slack.

 

It seems to snaps her out of.. whatever state of mind she was in.

 

"Drop your weapon, now" She still follows the script by saying and you can’t get rid of the thing fast enough.

 

It lands in a pile of snow with a soft thud.

 

You’ve got to be the worst Mary Sue in _history._ You didn’t feel **anything** when you picked it up. No vibrations, no magical... feelings, nothing. To be honest, you could have just as well picked up a stone or tree branch for all the good it did you.

 

Was something supposed to happen? It had in nearly every fanfiction you’d read before ending up here. You have no other frame of reference to go on, and you absolutely refuse to ask Cassandra such a thing.

 

"Alright, I've dropped it" you clarify, hands still held up.

 

"Wait" Her eyes go round as you let your hands drop.

 

 _"..._ Yes?" You ask.

 

She shakes her head as she sheathes her sword. “I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless.”

 

You almost interrupt her mid-sentence to tell her just how defenseless you are, and that demons and the very thought of battle scares the shit out of you, but seeing how that is going to be pretty obvious soon enough, you settle for a nod.

 

_You might have just butterfly-ed Thedas to hell by being brought here as the Inquisitor._

 

Not to mention, you really need to work on getting back to your own world, and fast, no matter what.

 

You don't belong here.

 

Faithful to the game-script, she turns around. "I should remember you agreed to come willingly," the Seeker sighs.

 

You look at the useless piece of wood on the ground, and make the decision to bring it. After all, if it remains useless, you can just sell the bloody thing and then have some currency in this God-forsaken world.

 

_Maybe you should start calling it Maker-forsaken world._

**Shut up, brain.**

 

There is no way in hell you’re going to end up using the bloody thing anyway, and learning how to properly wield a sword or daggers or bow takes ages... time you do not have, and do not want to spend practising to do something that goes against every fibre of your being. This might be Thedas, and you might have ended up here as the Inquisitor…but you’d rather die than kill someone.

 

Oh you’re not oblivious, you know people murder each other like idiots in this game, world, whatever it is and you knew beforehand that Cassandra and the others would be no different, but... you are not a denizen of Thedas. You are a modern girl from Earth, planet Tellus. You are **not** like these people and you have absolutely **no** desire to be.

 

"Take these potions," Cassandra says, surprising you by shoving small red and blue vials into your free hand. “Maker knows what we'll face."

 

A healing potion and a lyrium potion? Looking at the small potions and feeling the cool, smooth glass against your palms…is so _bizarre_.

 

_Really?_

 

Does this mean people have a health bar? Demons have one too? Oh my god, does that mean you have a mana and stamina bar, too? Do you have hitpoints? Mana points!?

 

_What does that even mean!?_

 

You feel a headache coming on, and this time you do rub your temples. And…wait, does that mean you can’t die? Will you just get knocked out and then possibly revived?

 

What. Does. This. Mean!?

 

You stop moving and try to calm your racing heart.

 

_Shit._

 

What does 'death' mean here? In the game you could see people's health bars above their heads and in online games you can toggle that feat on or off, did that mean that these people's were turned off? Did they have one? Could you learn to see it somehow? Or are you over-thinking it again?

 

_Horse shit!_

 

Continuing your silent cursing spree when the thoughts run in circles, and more than a little freaked out at all the possibilites, you stumble after the mellowed out Seeker. Using the staff as a walking stick, you purposely avoid some random corpses on the ground, refusing to inhale and find out what they smell like. When the two of you stop and Cassandra loots them however, you can not help but grit your teeth and look away.

 

You know the necessity of the situation, and you know this is what you usually do in the game, but that doesn’t make the situation any less.. morbid. Or make it feel less… **wrong.** Everything is so different where you come from.

 

Would these people get a proper burial? Would someone come and pick them up or would they just remain here to rot, by themselves? No final proper resting place? No family to visit their grave site?

 

You shudder, and force down a lump forming in the back of your throat. Now that you have accepted this place as real, at least for the moment, you can’t help but blink away tears. The question about their burial is stuck there, it won’t leave you.

 

It’s beyond morbid to try to get the Seeker to stop rummaging through their belongings. These bodies had once been real, living, breathing, moving, _people_. These men most likely had family missing them, perhaps wives and children waiting for their fathers to return home.

 

You sniffle a bit and chew on your lower lip, desperately blinking away the tears burning in your eyes.

 

Finally getting Cassandra's attention, you get her to release the second body and move on. She looks more than a little questioning, but nods and seems to take it as a reminder that you should keep moving.

 

You can’t talk about it, can’t explain it. The words are all a tangled, jumbled mess. It’d be useless to try, they’d just all come out wrong.

 

As the two of you leave the corpses behind, you stomp down on the urge to cry. You were interrupted before, and if not for the fear overriding your little breakdown...

 

You just need to keep going. Stop thinking so much.

 

One foot in front of the other.

 

You block out images of dead people's faces as you follow Cassandra's sturdy frame, her armoured feet crunching loudly in the snow.

 

"Where are all your other soldiers?" You manage to ask when the silence becomes overbearing and the images of the dead people in your head are almost too much to avoid.

 

"At the forward camp or fighting. We are on our own for now," she replies with a heavy sigh.

 

You nod, trying not to notice how pregnant the silence turns as Cassandra silently trudges on. She didn’t even turn to answer you.

 

You swallow once again, and make the decision to walk up ahead, staff touching the ground with renewed fervor. You’ve played Dragon Age: Inquisition, many times. You know where you’re going... and just like in the game, the Seeker does not object and settles with following you instead.

 

Thoughts are swirling inside your mind, each more grim than the last, as you head up a small hill cresting a valley. You stop at the top, suddenly remembering where you are, allowing the sturdy warrior to pass. With a nervous swallow, you look down ,trying to brace against what you know you will find down there.

 

Your heart leaps into your throat, and your mouth goes dry. Remembering the fear of facing one of those lurking creatures down there on your own…

 

_You do not belong here._

 

The demons slither aimlessly below. Gliding unnaturally over the ice, seemingly lost in their own world. Your heart hammers in your ears, adrenaline beginning to build up in your system. You haven’t gotten **any** less afraid of them since last time.

 

Cassandra just sticks to her in-game script comments, charging the fade creatures with her weapons raised. She bashes one as you take a step backwards, hoping that this time, the demons will not notice you. The creatures roars in defiance, and the anchor itches in response. Being the warrior you know she is, Cassandra effortlessly blocks their combined effort to take her out with her shield, instantly crushing one of them. It gargles, a pitiful noise cut off at the end.

 

It makes you grip your staff even harder.

 

 _Just pretend to be back home_ , your mind supplies as you rub your palm against the smooth wood.

 

All of a sudden Cassandra looks right at you, eyes not quite as wild as last time.

 

"If we flank them, we might gain the advantage!" She shouts and turns to parry a slashing attack.

 

Your body goes rigid.

 

Wait. Does she mean...?

 

Cassandra grunts, kicks out and kills a green floaty fade monster that’s suddenly appeared from nowhere. Then she once more looks up at you, an impressive scowl adorning her stern face.

 

She does.

 

She means for you to join the fight.

 


	12. Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait ppl! There's been some illness IRL for both me and my BETA. We're back online now though! (hopefully!)
> 
> Also, a HUGE thank you for all my reviewers and Kudos-givers - you ROCK my world.
> 
> And don't forget! I owe the brilliance of this chapter to my lovely BETA RikaDivani;
> 
> https://rikadivani.tumblr.com  
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikaDivani/pseuds/RikaDivani

Would it hurt anything if you just, ignored Solas? Do you need to follow the game script to put things back on track? Will it be fine if you just talk to Varric? Varric’s perceptive, but not like Solas. Right?

 

_Right._

 

It’s a good thing Cassandra’s distracted by the battle and not looking your way, because you bet she’d see the near-panic written all over your face if she were. And then what would she think?

 

_Are you hyperventilating?_

 

There are no words to describe the heartwrenching sensation that echoes through you when you enter the Valley. Both from within yourself and from the mark, when you see him.

Solas is too busy throwing barriers over Varric and freezing demons to even be aware of your presence, it seems. Varric grins when a barrier is thrown over him anew after the old one wears off and takes down his enemies with a brutal efficiency you can’t help but admire.

How did this guy hide his identity for so long? He’s magnificent in ways you’re sure other mages are not.

Your confidence plummets.

You are not **Thedosian** , is your single coherent thought before Solas appears by your side and grabs your left hand. Jaw gone slack, you blink in disbelief as he thrusts it toward the green glowing portal above both of your heads.

 

“Quickly, before more come through!” Solas shouts over the buzzing of the rift along with the howling of the wind.

 

Again, you have no words to describe this sensation. Different from before, but still nameless. Something crawls up your arm, body tingling with whatever energy is filling you up. You’re light as a feather and the tingling almost feels like it’s alive, moving on its own. Your mouth drops open into an ‘O’ shape as you stare into the green abyss of the rift.

 

_Is this...what magic feels like?_

 

You gasp as all of your nerve endings go haywire and all your senses suddenly come into sharp focus. You can smell him from where he stands beside you, a mix of soft lavender and sharp pine with a natural musk that hides underneath.

 

 _Intoxicating_ , your mind whispers.

 

The world shifts and then your senses are flooded with the less pleasant stench of sulphur and something unknown, and you can see and hear...

 

CLOSE IT ALREADY! Your mind shouts all of a sudden, breaking you out of whatever trance you were caught in.

 **CLOSE**! You mentally beg the portal, not knowing what else to do. Thankfully, someone up there heard your prayer because with an audible pop it closes, your hand thrown backwards from the force of it.

Everything goes dull as the effects of the rift wear off. You no longer feel light and unstoppable. God, was your body always this heavy?

It’s not possible to look away from your mark as soon as you lock eyes on it. Checking it over and peering into it as if you might divine its nature just by looking.

 

_Is this how magic works?_

 

You watch the dull mark flare for a second almost reverently. Those few moments you were connected to the rift had felt... heavenly.

 

Intoxicating.

 

_Addicting._

 

Besides the fact that you are currently gawking like an idiot at your left hand while gaping like a fish, all your mind can supply is 'Wow, amazing'.

 

"What did you do?" You ask, tongue not working quite like it should.

 

You know that in the game the inquisitor always looks at Solas while saying that, but you... can't seem to stop staring at the hand.

 

A hand that used magic.

 

You. Used. Magic.

 

_Wow._

 

"I did nothing," comes his answer, voice smooth and somewhat accented, and had you not known who he is and where he came from, you would not have noticed.

 

A moment passes, and you are still staring at the anchor. This is nothing like you imagined.

 

"The credit is yours." He adds, something unidentifiable in his tone of voice.

 

_Stop staring at your god damn hand._

 

Your head snaps up at that, and you have no idea what you were expecting but.. Not what you are met with.

 

Solas has stunningly blue eyes, but his gaze is as frosty as the blizzard building around you, facial expression schooled to the point where not even you who consider yourself a Solas expert can read anything.

If not for the fact that you know who he is and what he wants to do, you might very easily have fallen for the whole “neutral hobo elf” persona and taken a step backwards. His face is blank, and his shoulders slightly hunched forward.

 

You fight the urge to snort at his imitation of a humble apostate.

 

_He is anything but._

 

You can feel the flood of heat in your face and even your ears, so you clench down on your feelings to keep them from showing on your face any more than they have. Not quite able to keep the butterflies at bay, you look down at the hand again, not sure what else you can do.

 

"So this is good for something," you add before things turn awkward.

 

You really don’t know what else to say. For the life of you, you can’t seem to recall the canon game dialogue here. Your tongue is stuck at the back of your throat and you fight the urge to squirm. Eyes piercingly blue along with: “The credit is yours”, play on repeat in your mind as you forcefully swallow and try to mimic his air of seeming all humble and calm.

 

_Really?_

 

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand," he then continues, and despite not seeing his face, you hear the way his accent starts lilting as he explains, most likely the Elvhen in him shining through.

 

_Now might be a good time to stop looking at your hand._

 

"I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake, and it seems I was correct." He says.

 

_Right._

 

"Meaning it could also seal the Breach itself," Cassandra adds, some wonder in her voice.

 

You nod, satisfied no one seems to have an issue with you behaving so oddly.

The less you speak to Fen'harel himself, the better. You don't trust yourself or your heart around him one bit. You could barely fool Cassandra…no way you’re gonna fool the 'lord of tricksters'. He’ll start prodding and you’re not sure you can lie effectively, or at all, if he does.

Even most Mary Sues spilled their secrets in the end.

 

"Possibly." He says then, effectively quieting your inner voice.

 

You watch beneath hooded eyelids as his shoulders slumps forward again, and you refuse to dwell on how it makes you want to open your mouth and give him a mouthful of your thoughts.

This is, figuratively and literally speaking, all his fault.

 

"It seems you hold the key to our salvation." He adds, and it's impossible not to look up then.

 

You are met with a pair of hard, unreadable eyes, even if a mask of pleasantry clearly has been plastered on his angular face. Those eyes speaks volumes to you.  He is studying you, much in the same way Leliana did.

 

You shrink in on yourself, taking half a step backwards when Varric all of a sudden breaks the tension.

 

_Well, what did you expect? Best friends at first glance?_

 

**Shut up!**

 

"Good to know. Here I thought we'd be ass deep in demons forever," his jovial voice is a welcome distraction.

 

You swallow your bitterness toward Solas as you turn, and try to replace it with genuine joy of meeting the dwarf in person. At least Varric’s friendly and considerate. You spent a lot of time during Dragon Age two loving his perceptive, loyal, humorous personality. He was your Hawke's best friend and confidante, and in Inquisition he was very much the same to Ma'edh'lin.

 

_But you are not her, are you?_

 

Might be the reason Solas is acting so cold.

 

_Or your own bitterness colouring the meeting._

 

You swallow, and try to give the dwarf a genuine smile.

 

That little voice of reason is shoved to the back of your mind as you take in the dwarf's height, clothing and everything that makes him... Varric. You allow the joy of actually meeting him in person overshadow how disappointed you feel at how cold Solas treated you.

 

_Well... what did you expect?_

 

Nothing had gone according to plan since you came to this... place. Yet the experience of actually being here in Thedas is nothing like you imagined. Not even Solas seems to be the same. Not like you know how to make people like you in real life, and besides.. you ended up here as a man, did you not?

Maybe you should be thankful you ended up as a man. Less... complicated that way.

 

Perhaps some of the internal chaos you’re feeling is displayed on your face, because Varric all of a sudden winks and introduces himself once more, this time with a louder voice.

You hear the disgusted snort that follows, and your lips twitch. At least he hasn’t changed.

 

"Nice crossbow you have there, Messere Tethras," you manage to say then.

 

Surely Varric must hear how bad an actor you are?

 

"Ah... isn't she?" He answers, and you swear you can hear amusement in his tone of voice, “Bianca and I have been through a lot together."

 

You can't stop the genuine chuckle that follows. Thankfully the rogue's not making a big deal out of your... weird behaviour.

 

"You named your crossbow Bianca?" You banter, trying to tune in on his lightness.

 

You are not sure how well you succeed however, and you can't help but avoid eye contact after asking.

 

"Of course," comes Varric's voice, and although it remains light there is something... something, you can not place, in his tone. "And she'll be great company in the valley," he adds after a moments hesitation.

 

You look back up at that, trying to smile again, hoping none of your thoughts are displayed on your face.

 

Why could you not have ended up as a Mary Sue?!

 

At that, Cassandra steps forward, and you move away from her, all of a sudden feeling awkward.

She's not going to mention or question your little mental breakdown, is she?

As the snow crunches beneath your feet, you feel, rather than see, Solas move. The Seeker and the Dwarf start bantering, or perhaps the more accurate term is bickering, about the valley. It makes you swallow and once again look down at your marked hand.

 

_It's becoming a pet peeve of yours, isn't it?_

 

The one breaking the tension between the Seeker and rogue is Solas. Because...that is what he should do. Script-wise.

 

_Just keep the frown off your face!_

 

"My name is Solas if there are to be introductions. I'm pleased to see you still live." He says, head tilting just so.

 

You stifle a hiccup making its way up the throat and look up from the hand. Varric interjects, possibly noticing the awkward tension between the wo of you.

 

_You definitely have no people skills._

 

"He means 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept," he says, and it makes you chuckle again, but your voice is shrill, and the laugh sounds strained, even to your ears.

 

_Way to go for a first impression._

 

**Shut up, brain!**

 

“You seem to know a great deal about it all,” you speak without thinking, bitterness colouring each word.

 

You know that in the game there would be a “Solas approves” after you saying this written on the screen, but there must have been something about your tone of voice or way you phrased the sentence, that has all the pleasantness disappearing from his face. His eyes grows frosty once more, expression neutral to the point where you once again can't read anything in it.

 

_Solas disapproves or Solas greatly disapproves?_

 

"Solas is an apostate, well versed in such matters." Cassandra chirps in.

 

_You are off to a great start here with him, aren't you?_

 

**Shut up already!**

 

Solas looks vaguely unimpressed as he narrows his gaze on you despite addressing the Seeker.

 

"Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra." He speaks slowly, pleasant mask back in an instant, but the eyes remain cold, or more like downright _freezing_.

 

"My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any circle mage." He continues, and you forcibly stare at your hand, focusing on trying see just how far the mark has spread.

 

It is all you can do to not speak again. You have so much you want to say... but you would never speak any of it.

 

_Coward._

 

His piercing gaze feels like it is trying to drill a hole through your skull when you feel that invisible thread tugging on you again. An itchy feeling on the palm follows, and so you shake the hand in annoyance.

 

"I came to offer whatever help I can with the Breach. If it is not closed we are all doomed... regardless of origin," he states, voice grim.

 

You look up at that, irritated that the hand seem to have grown an antfarm beneath the skin.

 

"And when this is all over...?" You can't help but snap, scratching the palm furiously at this point. This world, and all that has happened up until this point, is really grating on your nerves.

 

_Real smooth._

 

**Shut. Up.**

 

You know from the game that this dialogue option is one he should approve of, but the way his eyes goes blank, and posture somewhat stiff, it would seem that in your version of this world... that might not have been the smartest thing to say.

 

"One would hope that those in power remembers who helped... and who did not." He speaks with the mouth set in a straight line. Swallowing, you refuse to acknowledge the way your heart pounds in your chest.

 

_What are you doing wrong here?_

 

The itch suddenly stops as he backs away a step, and you exhale as his scrutinizing gaze turns to the Seeker.

 

"Cassandra, you should know; the magic here is unlike anything I have seen."

 

You grit your teeth.

 

"Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power." He adds and you watch as Cassandra takes it all in, knowing she believes him.

 

_You did too... During your first playthrough._

 

"Understood," she replies with a nod and looks at you. "We must get to the forward camp, quickly."

 

You lower your head and watch through your eyelashes as she marches on, Solas motioning with his arm in a gesture for you to go first. You bite your lower lip so hard it actually bursts open as you swallow a mouthful of blood and rush after Cassandra's armoured back.

 

Varric appears at your side the same instant you slow down, and despite you seeing a smile on his face, you have a feeling he knows something is off.


	13. Epic fail on the Mary Sue part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok.. so.. *bows down* I'M SO SORRY I'M SO SORRY for the absence! Due to a severe illness and several surgeries, I've been unable to write or update, PLEASE forgive me all my awesome, epic, patient readers <3 
> 
> This chapter wouldn't have been written, or published, if not for the most AMAZING beta of the century-- RikaDivani! Go check her out! 
> 
> https://rikadivani.tumblr.com/  
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikaDivani/pseuds/RikaDivani
> 
> She's AMAZEBALLS, people! I absolutely adore her, and her fics are TOP NOTCH! RikaDivani used her magic touch on this chapter, and VOILA! Here we gooooooo!

**_Chapter warnings: Hints of gore_ **

 

 

"Well... Bianca's excited," the dwarf says with a wink.

 

 _Varric's Charisma score is off the charts!_   You think and grin.

 

"This way. Down the bank." Cassandra says.

 

Meanwhile you're staring at the wooden obstacle blocking the road with a sense of helplessness. It's huge and unwieldy and you can't even begin to see a way-

 

You try not to stare as Solas clears the obstacle, effortless and graceful. You wonder if it's an elf thing or a Solas thing. Internally snorting at the situation and bracing yourself, you run up to the obstacle and make the jump. But you put too much power in your jump and end up flailing like a fish out of water in the seconds before you hit the ground.

 

A shriek escapes you as you fall face first, smacking your nose into the ground and feeling a muted _crunch_. The pain is sharp and immediate, shooting from your nose to the back of your skull and everywhere inside your brain.

 

You lift your head with a groan and blink your eyes open, your vision blurred. From the pain or from some kind of damage to your eyes, you don't know.

 

"Prisoner!" Cassandra gasps, rushing to your side.

 

You can feel something warm on your face and when you put a hand up to feel, it is indeed blood gushing from your nose. You try to stem the tide of red, but every time you touch your nose, it hurts worse. So you end up leaning your head back and pinching your nostrils shut, internally screaming at the pain that shoots through you as you do so.

 

"I'b fide," you try to speak but the nose injury and consequent flood of blood keeps you from complete coherency.

 

The warrior looks at you with something akin to disbelief, and had it not been for the pain, you might have flushed.

 

"May I examine the injury?" Solas's smooth voice intones from beside you and you're suddenly struck with how much of a spectacle you've made of yourself.

 

_What the hell is wrong with this place?!_

 

You feel your cheeks heating up as you stand, taking a wobbly step backwards, hands out in what you hope is a placating gesture.

 

"I'b fide," you repeat.

 

Though the copious amounts of blood staining your clothing does worry you when you notice it. And they probably don't believe you're fine at all since they can all see it.

 

Your ears are literally burning in shame and embarrassment, the awkwardness so tangible in the air it feels like you can reach out and literally _grab_ a hold of it.

 

Does gravity work differently in Thedas?

 

"I must insist that you allow me to look at the injury. We can not safely proceed otherwise." Solas insists.

 

 _Oh... no one calls you by name because they don't know it. How utterly rude of you! No wonder Cassandra keeps calling you_ _**prisoner** _ _._

 

What was your male inquisitor's name? Mahanon? You can't use that, that's an elven name and you're not sure _what_ race you are-- weird jumping issues aside, you're pretty sure you're human.

 

_Fuck it._

 

"By nabe is bahanon," You say, gnashing your teeth behind your soaked hand.

 

"Then I must insist, once more, on examining the injury, Mahanon." Solas speaks slowly, voice still smooth and soft and moves towards you like one would approach an injured animal.

 

_Way to leave an impression._

 

Despite the elf's careful approach, you squirm, fighting an insane urge to bolt. The itch, the ants beneath the skin in your palm increase tenfold as the ancient elf moves closer. You clench your hand and dig your nails into the skin.

 

_It doesn't help._

 

Cassandra looks up at the elvhen from where she sits crouched.

 

As he stands right in front of you, every facial detail so... real, you can't fully stop yourself from taking a step backwards. He is _too_ close, and this close he's...well. He's an elvhen god of old. What more can you say?

 

Solas narrows his eyes at you and you gulp and look away.

 

_It's too much._

 

The mere thought of _him_ almost touching you too much to handle.

 

_Too real._

 

You don't want his hands anywhere near your face. It's too...intimate, too soon, too...much.

 

There is a tingle in your palm that spreads up the arm and continue down the back, but you refuse to acknowledge it. Your heart is pounding furiously from...anticipation?

 

_Breathe._

 

"Maybe you should listen to Chuckles on this one," Varric says, tone of voice laced with some undecipherable emotion as you instinctively take another step backwards, ears and face burning.

 

The itch is starting to demand more attention, and so you let go of the leaky nose and furiously scratch on the palm. Despite acting like you do, Solas take a step forward and raise a glowing hand towards your face.

 

A hand that glows _green_.

 

You follow the hand's motions like a snake following its prey. The glow is... hypnotizing, and the hum in the air is making your entire being twitch.

 

You swallow, unable to look away.

 

 _How could you have missed him being Fen'harel before Trespasser?_ The hints were everywhere!

 

Your eyes meet and hold. The hum of his glow, the warmth it creates hovers closer until its right above your nose. Eyes go round as the hum starts creating tiny tingles inside the nose and over its skin. It's impossible to look away. A tiny portion of your brain whispers that he saw you make that jump, saw you sprawled on the ground, saw your... shortcomings.

 

You flush again, ears feeling even hotter, the cold air doing nothing to help soothe their burn.

 

_Epic fail on the Mary Sue part?_

 

When Solas is done, the pain is gone. Just like that.

 

_Holy shit._

 

You blink furiously as you realise you've stared at Solas' face unblinkingly for the past minute. With a nod, the elven mage turns to Cassandra.

 

"Is he...?" The seeker asks, and the elf nods again.

 

"His nose will be sore for the remainder of the week, but it should mend properly, now." Solas responds.

 

You blanch at that. Somehow it feels hard to wrap your head around the fact that _magic_ just _fixed_ your nose. Just like that. You thought he was just going to take the pain away! 

 

You stop blinking as you touch the bridge of your nose, somewhat in awe as you feel nothing but soreness. Even stranger still, all the fanfictions you read before ending up in this place, described that when magic was used on the mage characters they would feel a certain vibrating sort of feeling, something about auras touching and... You felt absolutely nothing from his hand but a hum, warmth, and of course, the anchor acting up as always.

 

Speaking of the anchor... it's lying dormant once more, somehow.

 

Definitely something wrong with this game, place, world, whatever it is.

 

 _Or something might just be wrong with_ _**you.** _

 

**Shut up, brain!**

 

"We have lost too much time. Hurry," Cassandra's gaze turns stern as she stands and breaks you out of whatever reverie you were caught up in.

 

"Aw Seeker, and here I was thinking the scenery is just too beautiful to leave behind," Varric speaks, voice laced with sarcastic mirth.

 

You take that as your cue to stand as well, and watch as Cassandra makes her famous disgusted snort and starts stomping off.

 

The metallic stench is somewhat overwhelming as you move, sweat and blood mingling. Feeling somewhat disgusted at your lack of hygiene, you look down at your stained clothes and wish that some sort of washing machine would magically show up.

 

_Maybe you can ask Solas if there is some sort of spell to keep one's clothes clean?_

 

Presumably it will be a long time before you can wash the blood off. Magic should be able to fix that too, right? Or how did it happen in the game? Because you remember quite a few battles where the characters got drenched in gore, and they were always pristine after a while.

 

_You keep talking about the game as if it should match reality. Are you going mad?_

 

**Shut. Up!**

 

"Quickly," the Seeker commands from a few feet ahead.

 

You scramble after her, Varric right behind you despite being the shortest one around- with Solas trailing at the back as usual... His stare reminds you of the reason you were delayed here in the first place, and you can't seem to walk fast enough away from him.

 

_You're gonna be the worst inquisitor in history._

 

The four of you make your way down the bank. You stumble over every damn stone along the way and avoid looking anywhere but straight ahead. Heart racing, mouth drying and your breathing quickening- you anticipate the fight ahead.

 

"You are Dalish, and clearly away from your clan. Did they send you here?" Solas's inquiry startles you.

 

It startles you so much, you almost walk straight into a tree. You stop just a hairs breadth away from the large trunk, eyes round, jaw slack. You turn so fast your right arm hits the trunk and snow falls over your head. You don't take much notice of it, too concerned with his question.

 

"What...!?"

 

"I have wandered many roads in my time and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion." He adds, brows furrowing.

 

You stare at him, head swirling with questions, mind in total disarray.

 

_You're... an elf?_

 

Your already fragile mind snaps. With a pivot on the spot you turn and dash towards the frozen lake.

 

"Wait!" you hear Cassandra call out, but the words don't penetrate the fog that has sealed itself around your logical part of the brain.

 

Falling twice on the way, you charge right into...

 

A horde of demons.

 

Your mind snaps right back to reality at that. Your body freezes in a spike of sudden terror as one of them appears from seemingly nowhere, and swipes one of its large claws towards you. There is no time to react, and time seems to slow down.

 

You and the nightmare creatures are all that exist in that moment.

 

The next second an uminaginable amount of pain explodes from your midsection, and the flow of time sputters right back to life.

 

You let out a hollering as the claws literally rips away chunks of flesh, the creature's attacks unrelenting against your vulnerable mid section.

 

New blood mixes with the old, splashes the ground-- so much red it's your whole world. White and red-

 

_Red, red, red, red red red red red red_

 

_**Run or you'll DIE!** _

 

The words break through the paralysing fear. With an ungodly scream, you turn and rush right back towards your battling comrades. You stumble, trip on something, the edges of your vision darkening as you struggle to stay on your feet.

 

Cassandra shouts in alarm, disbelief written all over her face as you try to speak, to explain, but nothing comes out. The world is going in and out of your vision, but the pain is... numbed. Something is glowing, but you can't seem to focus enough for your brain to connect.

 

"...Bolt looks..." is all you hear before your legs give out and you fall forward. A hand shoots out, grabs you, holds you up, but you can't see who it belongs to.

 

_You are so very nauseous._

 

_**Tired.** _

 

You can barely draw breath at this point, your speeding heart thundering in your ears as you fight to stay awake. Your arms and hands are warm, heavy, wet and cold. And then not.

 

Everything is turning numb.

 

The world seems to grow hazy as Solas' face appears in your blurry line of vision. You blink at seeing his dashing blue orbs so up close, gaze following his full, sensual lips as they part. You have no idea what it is he is trying to say. The words that comes out are nonsensical, sounding further and further away you watch the lips move but can not decipher the meaning.

 

He reaches out and the world seems to tilt oddly as you follow the movement of his glowing right hand.

 

_Is it just your imagination or are there slimy looking things hanging out of your stomach?_

 

Solas' entire being starts glowing all of a sudden, and it is the last thing you see before everything goes pitch black.

 


	14. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wouldn't have been posted without the aid of my EPIC, AWESOME, AMAZING Beta RikaDivani!! Seriously guys, she's so kind and patient, and a total pro- go check her out!!
> 
> https://rikadivani.tumblr.com/  
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikaDivani/pseuds/RikaDivani
> 
> Thanks to her, all you awesome readers gets a little mini-update! Happy midsummer's eve!!

 

_A shroud conceal s forgotten secrets of those lost_

 

_The beginning and the end_

 

_The Void_

 

_Either you’re dreaming or you **are** a dream_

_floating, drifting, perhaps a figment of someone’s wild imagination._

 

 _You are weightless, ethereal_ _\- a fragment_ _of a memory._

 

 _You simply_ _**.. exist.** _

 

_Is that all that is needed to claim personhood? Existence?_

 

 _In this void, this abyss, you_ _**exist** _ , _you dwell, float, drift aimlessly. You watch, wait, the sole inhabitant of this echo of a place that is no longer_ _…_

 

_In this vast non-place , your mere presence is a ripple in space-time_

_the tide rising to become a tsunami, a thorn in the wheel of life_

_Your_ _existence_ _is a disturbance in the fabric of_ _reality_ _._

 

 _You create where nothing is. You exterminate where everything w_ _as_ _._

 

_You reach out, a memory forming, creating –_

_a pair of immaterial hands reach out to skim the surface of a dark sofa._

_it solidifies under bare fingertips_

_two pillows appear on each side, colored both in shades of gray and black_

 

_They are nothing but a whisper of what once was, and you press on_

 

_Something moves and catches your attention_

_you study this newly created reality_

_And then the image warps as you reach out once more._

 

 _A modern laptop forms on_ _a_ _table, a mass of grey taking form, the endless mist swirling, writhing, you have to get it_ _**right.** _

 

_With effort , the object takes shape , the surface painted a smooth, inky black_

_the mist writhes as it once again ceases to exist_

 

_an insubstantial reminder of what i_ _s and is not_

 

_This very place ripples, shreds, tear into the fabric of time_

 

_It is what is should be, yet is no more and never will be_

 

_You move again and the darkness around your incorporeal feet contorts_

_slithers up from the ground like tentacles, and they reach out to form walls_

 

 _As your very essenc_ _e_ _ **remembers**_ , _the walls spring into being with intricate detail_

 

_Posters, knicks in the walls, lines, shapes form_

 

_You concentrate on the posters, their inky black images floating inside metallic grey frames_

_images whispering, beckoning, a siren call in this abyss_

 

_Long immaterial legs form, and they move towards the familiar feeling these posters radiate_

_yet as you stare, study, no memory appears which can breathe life into their depths_

 

 _Whispers without substance echo the closer you get, and since you can_ _’_ _t make any sense of them, you turn away, move back towards the_ _illusory living room_

 

_Solitude._

 

_Sanctuary._

 

_Ignoring the poster's nonsensical whispering, you move away, float about without any sense of direction or purpose, listening, studying, watching.. existing._

 

_Suddenly, without your interference , the silhouette of a door forms to the right of the living room._

 

 _You're drawn toward it, long tendrils of_ _gray_ _reaching out from yourself to touch, to_ _**feel.** _

 

_As the door opens and you move inside, the gray mass springs free and creates a tiny, spartan room._

 

_The small space here, in - between , appears to be some sort of sleeping space, a gray scaled bedroom with a narrow bed placed in the middle._

 

_Your gaze sweeps the place_

_the emptiness aching within you and creating a nightstand to the right of you_

 

_Satisfied, you move toward the bed as light gray blankets blink in and out of existence and suddenly the room seems to come alive_

 

_As if exhaling in relief, the walls undulate and are suddenly blotted out with posters, though none tell a tale_

 

_The walls writhe, narrow and then stretch as another laptop appears_

_this version, however, is turned on_

_a sharp, eerie white light bathing the otherwise black room in illumination_

_Shadows leaping and dancing_ _like a disco lamp_ _on the eerie nothingness_

 

_Immaterial hands reach out, unable to resist the beckoning call of the laptop's blinking screen_

_A memory struggles to reach the surface as the light distorts, the shadows multiply, an endless_ _cacophony_ _of voices_ _following_

 

_The hands retract as one voice drowns out the rest._

 

 _**・** _ _**Fen'harel enansal!** _ _**・** _

 

_And so you fall._

 

_Down, down, down, down,down, down, down, down..._

 


	15. Welcome back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wouldn't have been posted without my epic, über-awesome BETA RikaDivani! And a shoutout to all my readers, YOU keep me inspired, YOU feed my muse!
> 
> https://rikadivani.tumblr.com/  
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikaDivani/pseuds/RikaDivani

 

 

The world is swimming in a sea of pain, burning, scalding, a torrent of fire wrecking the body, burning, breaking, tearing...

 

Your eyes fly open as you scream into a dimly lit room, shadows dancing eerily on walls blurry from tears, darkness creeping up from all sides, whispering, caressing, crooning, promising an _e_ _nd_ to this torment.

 

 _Do you not_ _**remember** _ _?_

 

You have no idea what you’re supposed to be remembering as you fight to stay conscious, to bear with the hundreds of knives seemingly slicing up your entire being, a raging wildfire fighting for dominance over your very soul.

 

Every nerve ending, every muscle, every limb yells in protest as you thrash like a rag-doll on the hard ground. Darkness beckons again as you beg, plead, scream yourself hoarse for anyone listening. Praying to whomever is listening to just _end it._

 

Then as suddenly as it came.. the pain just vanishes.

 

You slump forward, nose hitting the hard ground which smells like old sewer mixed with a coppery stench you know from experience, is the smell of blood. Heart racing from its exertion, you settle on just trying to breathe properly, slowly working your way up from this awkward, uncomfortable position.

 

_You must still be in Thedas then since your floor is nowhere near as hard or foul smelling as this one, but... hold on a minute, were you not just outside with Solas, Cassandra and…_

 

The next second it dawns on you that the temperature is nowhere near cold any longer, the air does not smell crisp and clear. Your eyes blink furiously to try to clear the haze your leaking eyes have created just as the slamming of a door echoes in the silence. The loud bang has your head snapping right up, and heart jumping into the throat.

 

In through the door stomps an upset looking, unusually tall, Cassandra, followed by an equally tall Leliana.

 

“Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now,” the seeker more or less bellows at you.

 

“ _What?_ _”_

 

“The conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead… except for you,” she continues while pacing back and forth.

 

“ _... Huh?_ _”_

 

Your body curls in on itself, as the seeker narrows her eyes on you. You have already done this part, you have already answered her, why are you even...

 

_Were you not just outside with..._

 

The seeker's eyes glitters as she rushes forward and grabs your manacled hands with enough force that has you toppling forward once again.

 

“Explain _this_!” she shouts and drags you up, before throwing your hands right back into your lap.

 

_What the hell is going on here?_

 

You blink, sore jaw hanging slack in incomprehension as the seeker looms, towering over your small figure.

 

_You need to speak._

 

“I... can't!” you wheeze out, and realize that you’re so thirsty your throat feels raw, itchy... swollen. You're parched despite having a clear memory of getting enough to drink just... hours? Ago.

 

“What do you mean you _can't?!_ _”_ she snaps, gauntlets touching the top of her sword, drawing it from it's sheath in one swift movement.

 

_HOLY SHIT! WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT_

 

“I don't know what this is, I swear!” you exclaim desperately, holding the hand up as if the gesture itself would explain everything, waving the subtly green glowing hand in a placating gesture.

 

“You're _lying_!” the enraged warrior shouts back, and in one quick motion, presses the tip of her sword against your throat. You can feel the cold steel as it touches the skin of your vulnerable throat. You know that if you make one wrong move... it will pierce the skin.

 

_**HOLY SHIT!** _

 

A gasp escapes your sore throat, heart racing out of control as you instinctively scramble backwards, only now realizing your feet and legs are not bound. Your back hits something hard and cold, and you realise you really are back in the dungeon beneath Haven's Chantry.

 

_What. The. Hell?!_

 

The warrior simply follows, eyes silently fuming, lips thin and dangerous.

 

Just as you feel like your bladder might react to the very real danger you are in, Leliana takes two strides forward and holds out an arm between the two of you.

 

“We need her, Cassandra.”

 

 _Yes, yes, yes, yes, holy shit, you need me, yes!_ Your mind screams in reply.

 

The warrior grits her teeth, but relents and takes a step backwards. Though her eyes remains zeroed in on you as yours widen in realization. She said...

 

_Her._

 

Relief washes through your being with such force, you choke on a mouthful of spit and start coughing. For a few moments, nothing but your ragged sounds fills the silence. The entire situation is so beyond anything resembling logic or rationality, you feel a hysterical laugh working its way towards the surface.

 

_Finally lost it, huh?_

 

**Shut up, brain!**

 

“I don't understand,” you croak out.

 

 _T_ _ruer words have never been spoken._

 

Just a couple of... minutes? Hours? Ago you were out in the snow, as a male elf inquistior, trying to survive in a winter wonderland with Solas, Varric and Cassandra. You were heading towards the second part and now... you're back here.

 

How the hell did you manage ending up in the beginning again? Did you dream it all up? Being a man, being an elf, being outside... Or did you somehow... break, the game? Because you are pretty sure there are no saving or loading mechanics in real life, and you are back as yourself.

 

Hopefully.

 

At least them calling you ‘her’ meant you are as close to yourself as you probably can be.

 

_Nothing made any sense to begin with, but this..?_

 

Tops it all.

 

_Ugh!_

 

You do not dare to look down to confirm, since that would mean looking away from the two game characters, both whom apparently had grown a foot and a half, not to mention had seemingly gone bonkers since the last time you saw them. They had never been this hostile, this.. rough, in the game with any of the characters as far as you can remember.

 

_So what the hell is going on here?_

 

Leliana's eyes trace your form as she leans slightly backwards, but you can see from her poise that she, like Cassandra, has her hands close to her weapons.

 

 _Seriously,_ _**did** _ _you break the game?_

 

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” she speaks slowly, voice devoid of any emotion.

 

_She'd be terrifying to have as an enemy._

 

As a cough stops you from answering, the rogue makes a casual gesture that has Cassandra making a disgusted noise and sheathing her sword. She looks right back at you, sharp hawk-like eyes zoning in on your entire being. Your head is positively reeling as you focus on trying to take deep, steady breaths.

 

_What in god's name is going on!_

 

And you need to speak, whether you have the courage to or not. Even if you know for sure that this has all happened once before, you have to keep playing your part or you might, in fact, find yourself run through. Who knows? These two have already acted far out of character and have broken out of the script, you have no wish to test if you can or will die, in this -world, dimension, game, whatever it is. It’s terrifying enough as it is simply _being_ here at the mercy of an enraged Seeker and blood thirsty Spymaster.

 

_Breathe._

 

What can you say? Should you follow the script anyway? Even so, the problem remains, you are a terrible liar, and your mouth is dry, itchy, and it's hard to even formulate the words right.

 

_Breathe._

 

“I _…_ _”_ you swallow _,_ _“_ I d-don't know. I c-can't r-rem-member,” you stutter, trying to sound as truthful as possible. It's not a true lie, but it is one of omission.

 

At this point you are too scared and confused to care about the fact that you are answering in a way that is not canon, or according to script.

 

You feel a sharp pang of home sickness. Whatever this place is, wherever it is, you have never missed the simplicity of everyday life as much as you do right now. Heck, you'd kill for a satin bed and large covers, because the urge to curl up into a ball and sleep for the rest of your life is _overwhelming._

 

Both women's eyes narrow even further, and Leliana's glitter for a second as her lips draws into a thin line. She leans forward, right hand's fingertips just barely grazing one of the dagger hilts at her waist. Your mind comes back to the present at that. You swallow nervously, managing to not choke on the spit this time.

 

_Should you really have lied like that?_

 

Perhaps not, but saying anything else would have been an even _bigger_ lie because no way in hell can you explain yourself properly, and speaking in half truths about your origin, and everything you've managed to experience since coming here, would have been _even harder_ to pull off without given a one-way ticket to whatever means of asylum Thedas offered.

 

“Stop!” A masculine voice suddenly calls out behind you, the sudden noise almost giving you a heartattack.

 

“She isn't guilty of anythin'! I was there when the whole place went to shit and she…”

 

The sentence is awfully familiar, only that you were called 'he' in that memory and you remember Ma'edh'lin speaking them.

 

_Could it be this game save's real inquisitor?_

 

But... Hold on a second here, you do clearly remember creating Ma'edh'lin and you remember creating a Dalish elf mage, and you vividly remember looking down at your flat chest ,and you do remember being called a “he” but...

 

_Stormy blue eyes. Piercing gaze. Graceful strides. Snow tinted green._

 

“ _You are Dalish, and clearly away from your clan. Did they send you here?_ _”_

 

Pure panic floods your mind as images follow, the breaking of a dam.

 

_Snow. Ice, crystalline ice and green, so much green. Piercing red eyes._

 

_A shriek followed by pain... pain, pain pain pain pain pain_

 

The world tilts as you fight the onslaught of panic and nausea.

 

Had you not just been a **guy** and trudged through snow with Solas, Varric and Cassandra and...

 

_Holy shit._

 

Demons.

 

_You can't move, you can't see, it's so dark, what are those things pouring out of your stomach?!_

 

_**RUN, or you'll DIE!** _

 

_Solas was glowing. That familiar light.. you ran towards it, didn't you?_

 

_**Green.** _

 

_Pain pain pain pain pain pain_

 

 _**Solas, help me!** _

 

 


	16. Bad end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmygosh! I promised to get back on track and then... well. IRL things happened. I am SO SORRY! Please have this Brontosaurus chapter as an excuse! *bows head*
> 
> As usual, this chapter wouldn't have been published without my EPIC BETA RikaDivani. For those of you who haven't checked her out yet - doooo iiiit! :D Her fics are TOP NOTCH and she's so generous, kind and helpful! 
> 
> https://rikadivani.tumblr.com/  
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikaDivani/pseuds/RikaDivani

 

  **CHAPTER WARNINGS: Blood. Hints of gore. Explicit descriptions of pain.**

 

_**A summary for those who wish to skip this chapter will be available at the end, just scroll all the way down to the text fully in bold and italics, like this text :)** _

 

You’re so caught up in your memories and chaotic emotions, you don’t hear or smell anything for what feels like an eternity. You’re caught up in a tide of blood, a torrent of pain, and... _Did you die?_

 

It is a horrifying thought, one which has you on the verge of hyperventilating. You want to pull your hair, hold onto something, scream. You can't _stand_ being shackled for much longer. You want to _crawl_ right out of your own skin. Ants are crawling beneath it and you urgently need to scratch until it bleeds away the feeling.

 

_You must remember to breathe._

 

You just can't seem to figure out _how_.

 

“You remember _nothing_ _?_ ” Leliana suddenly speaks with clear disbelief, her stern voice breaking you out of your chaotic mind.

 

You exhale a shaky breath of fear as her out of proportion-self appears right in front of your face. The rogue's eyes glitters in the dim light, and there is no mistaking the fact that she does not believe a word you have said.

 

Her eyes scream bloody murder, and _you_ are the target of her ire.

 

A chill runs down your spine, and it drowns out the after affects of your … near death experience.

 

You cough and sputter as you open your mouth to answer, metal bars literally digging into your back as you fight the urge to scream and curl into a ball. Preferably one beneath your covers back at home, with no one around.

 

_God, but you miss your bed, you miss the comfort of home, the very essence of reality and..._

 

_**TALK ALREADY before Leliana or Cassandra changes their tactics!** _

 

“I... I remember running,” you manage to get out. “And a woman,” which is the truth.

 

You _do_ remember running and clearly you remember Cassandra and she's a woman.

 

God. You're almost as bad as Solas.

 

_Let's see how well you can handle speaking in half truths in the long run._

 

You almost snort at yourself and focus on breathing, because right now the room feels like its shrinking and the walls are beginning to move.

 

_They're not supposed to do that! Breathe!_

 

You keep your eyes leveled low, only focusing on drawing proper breath as the intimidating too-large rogue takes a step backwards. Behind you there are two voices, once of which you recognize as Cassandra and the other as that voice before that spoke up against them, vowing your innocence.

 

_Who is he? Are you supposed to know him?_

 

You try to hold on to the fact that someone in this blasted world seems to be on your side. A chill runs down your spine as the phantom ghost of unbearable pain whispers across your midsection.

 

_You should be dead, no one survives a demon assault like that._

 

**SHUT UP!**

 

“A woman?” Leliana speaks then, voice blank.

 

_Breathe._

 

Keep to the game script.

 

“Yes, she reached out to me but then…”

 

_Do not look down._

 

Your head grows heavy and you start to perspire heavily. You can't keep the eye contact.

 

 _Why are you looking down?_ ! _It will make you look even more guilty!_

 

Your heart continues to race as the shadow of Cassandra comes back and you're forced to look up. Leliana eyes you once more, her full lips still in a thin line, before leaving to stand by the door. The soldiers salute and open the door for her.

 

You swallow, heart still galloping like a frightened horse as Cassandra stomps toward you. With a huff she proceeds to pick up your manacled hands and tamper with the lock. You manage not to choke on your spit this time or curl into a ball despite the strong compulsion to do so.

 

“What _did_ happen? How did I... survive?” you whisper meekly, desperately, _anything_.

 

Cassandra looks up from her task, then back at Leliana before resuming her task until the heavy metal lands on the ground with a loud clack.

 

“It will be easier to show you,” she grits through her teeth.

 

Before you have the chance to react, the seeker grabs your now free hands and roughly binds them with thick, chafing rope.

 

Has every character gone bonkers in this version, save, whatever it is, or is it just Cassandra and Leliana?

 

The warrior yanks you up from the floor, causing you to stagger.

 

 _You_ _weren’t handled_ _this_ _roughly_ _last time._

 

But you have no desire to enrage the Seeker further, as this particular Cassandra seems more prone to violence than the last one.

 

 _Definitely something wrong with this save_ _file_ _, or whatever it is._

 

Leliana saunters back to the warrior, whispers something in her ear that is followed by a snort and a nod.

 

The rogue eyes you one last time, eyes still glittering, before turning and heading out the open door.

 

_Don't forget to breathe._

 

As you stumble after the too-large back of the Seeker, you ponder her height. Why, and how, had everyone turned so tall?

 

It was beyond strange to pass by the same soldiers you had already passed before, and to see that they were taller than they were the last time, like Leliana and Cassandra. As you passed you noticed with some relief that they reacted almost the same as last time.

 

_Small blessings._

 

You stare at the floor as you’re dragged out of the dungeon, Cassandra's larger steps forcing you to basically run. Every step up the stairs increases the choking feeling in your chest, but you swallow hard, force yourself to keep walking, force yourself not to turn and run back down.

 

You don't want to go outside, you don't want a repeat of last time.

 

_God... why did this happen to you? Why were you, and no one else, displaced?_

 

You have absolutely _nothing_ to offer Thedas!

 

You fight a tear and don’t look back. Just the thought of going back to the riverbank where you almost died, has you swallowing a lump of pure unadulterated fear at the back of your throat.

 

_Why you?_

 

You want to go home. Go back. You want your bed, your laptop, the comfort of your covers and Mr. Fluffins purring on your pillows. You want to be away from people for a few years, perhaps even longer and just... breathe.

Be anti social and do nothing more exciting than pressing on a mouse button all day long, preferably while nibbling on some sort of sugary snack.

 

_Dear god, but you are homesick!_

 

Your stomach growls in response to the image of a pair of homemade chocolate brownies you left in the fridge.

 

 _Why you?_ Your brain keeps repeating until the pair of you make it out of the Chantry. The crisp air isn’t as much of a shock as last time, but the brightness of the sun smacks you in the face like a sledgehammer, just like before.

 

You groan and shield your eyes while furiously trying to blink away the black blobs that darkens your vision.

 

“We call it the Breach. It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour,” the seeker growls, more spite in her voice than you recall ever hearing from her before.

 

You can do nothing but listen and nod, eyes still adjusting to the outside world. It is just as cold and snowy as you remember it being the last time, and the Breach has not gotten any less intimidating. Those stones still swirl, still defies gravity.

 

 _**Solas** _ _... if you ever tell him the truth, you are going to give a piece of your mind over this whole Breach bus_ _i_ _ness._

 

Seriously, how the hell could he not have foreseen the consequences of his actions?!

 

“It is not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.”

 

Well, considering how much this save's characters have already veered from the game script... anything is possible. You have no idea if you broke the game, world, or if this is just a fluke, or if you’re just dreaming and it's not even real.

 

Maybe there’s some kind of butterfly effect here. You've read enough fanfictions and been through enough unbelieve stuff to expect anything at this point.

 

 _So in other words, you have absolutely_ _**no clue** _ _about_ _**anything** _ _this time around._

 

You do not look forward to meeting Solas this time around if he's as frightening and out of control as Cassandra is.

 

Just the thought of sharp steel against your tender throat has you shuddering.

 

“An explosion can do that?” you ask, hoping your script-wise answer will help get the game back on track.

 

And honestly, you really need to start learning how to lie convincingly. You have the nagging feeling you’re going to need that particular skill.

 

The warrior crosses her arms, regards you with a hard stare, then uncrosses them.

 

“This one did,” she adds, gnashing her teeth, “and unless we act, the breach may very well grow until it swallows the world.”

 

Well. Considering Solas' goals, that might not be completely off...

 

Then suddenly you hear that familiar crackling noise you know is the Breach expanding, and just as suddenly your world is lit on **fire.**

 

You scream as a burning torrent of agony builds a pressure of pure adulterated pain in the left hand. You holler as the pressure spreads up the arm, shooting slicing, dicing, hacking daggers along your spine.

 

White hot lightning shoots up your spine, and you shout at the top of your lungs before falling forward, releasing a cascade of vomit.

 

No matter how many times you’re forced to endure the waves of pain the anchor causes, it’s impossible to get used to or brace yourself against the amount of pain it brings.

 

The mark pulses in your (small and chubby?) left hand, and as the last time, you watch as the green light breaks the skin and spreads upwards. Blood oozes from the wounds, a bright red dye against the white ground. You scream again and again and again as the green light slices up your arm.

 

Blood spurts from the wound like a fountain as Solas' magic literally tears your arm apart. Waves of torment washes over your small frame, and you roll around on the ground, screaming, thrashing, kicking.

 

 _God, dear god, baby jesus and Maria, make it_ _**stop!** _

 

You feel as the mark reaches the base of your neck and somewhere at the back of your head you take note of the fact that it has spread beyond what you remember it doing in the game _._

 

Blood keeps pouring out of your now useless left arm, and slices of flesh hangs loose and you think you can see the hint of broken bone in there as the green consumes the arm. You thrash even more, yell and plead, and beg whatever god that is listening, but nothing makes it better. You empty your stomach over and over again and the screams turns garbled. Just as you seem to get a small reprieve, the chest suddenly explodes in unimaginable, unadulterated, agony.

 

_It is the last thing you know before everything turns black._

 

… … … … … … …… … … … … … …… … … … … … …… … … … … … …… … … … … … …… … … …

 

Everything aches, every muscle screams in protest as you move, woken rudely by a distant, distorted voice calling out to you, hands shaking your burning frame.

 

“ _Prisoner, wake up!_ _”_ the voice keeps calling.

 

_Not back home then._

 

Your chest feels constricted, and for some reason your entire body feel sticky, wet, sluggish and cold. It’s hard to draw proper breath, your lungs expanding with a surge of pain that has your head reeling at the stinging sensation that follows.

 

More hands touch your face, but you are not sure whose and frankly, you don't care.

 

“... damn it, can you not…” and that is all you hear before once more zoning out, head swimming in molten lava. There is a pressure building up behind your eyes, an elephant trying to stomp its way out, and it is joining with that stinging sensation breathing creates.

 

You feel detached as a surge of pain shoots down the spine from between your shoulder blades. You think you might be squirming, but it's hard to figure out, because everything is just an ocean of pain.

 

Then the world comes back into focus but tilts oddly.

 

A powerful surge of nausea follows. You barely have the willpower to turn your head and vomit violently to the side, but there is nothing leaving your mouth but small balls of black goo. With a sort of detached feeling, your brain alerts you to the fact that whatever you are emptying on the ground is dark red, almost black, a puddle of goo that seems to colour the snow pink at the edges of it.

 

_What the..?_

 

Your head spins from the effort it takes to focus your vision as the dark, almost black substance once more leaves your body and mixes with the growing puddle in the snow. Your chest burns, the stinging sensation growing ever worse as the muscles between your shoulder blades spasm.

 

_God, but you just want to lay down in your bed, pull the covers over your head and sleep for a year or two._

 

You are so tired, the word exhaustion doesn't really cut it. Yawning, you blink, the vision once more turning hazy, blurry, world zoning in and out.

 

The shouting party around you gets louder. Your ears hurt, throbbing, the elephant insistent inside your skull, muscles screaming in protest as you try to sit up. The stench of acid and copper is so strong it exacerbates your nausea. You try to keep your head still, but it feels too heavy on your shoulders, so your neck slumps towards your chest.

 

Everything hurts.

 

_You are so, so very tired._

 

Every limb feels like it’s filled with lead.

 

You force your right arm to cooperate, you _need_ to get away from your vomit, you need to... move. But moving has you hissing in pain as it brings you a fresh surge of slicing knives up the hip, followed by more spasming of your shoulder blades, now spreading down your spine.

 

It is becoming increasingly hard to breathe, and not just because of the agony it creates whenever your lungs expand.

 

The memory of the mark spreading too far along with an explosion of pain in your chest plays like a video behind your eyelids, but you manage to somehow get your legs working enough to sit up. The rush of frigid air has your head slumping forward, muscles unable to keep it upright. At least the cold is like balm against your heated cheeks and throbbing left shoulder. You feel a cough coming on as you take another shallow breath, not sure why it makes your nose bubble and throat itch.

 

The vision clears somewhat as you look around, ignoring all the unfamiliar faces standing around you waving their hands frantically, their bodies glowing blue like five pair of disco balls.

 

Your head doesn't connect the dots, thoughts are slow, muddled, slippery. The blue glowy people seem to be opening their mouths but no sounds comes out, or maybe it does but you do not understand the words.

 

_You don't remember the inquisitor getting stuck here or having their entire arm consumed by Solas' magic this early on in the game._

 

And where is that bloody seeker? You need to stop the Breach, you can't just lay here and wait for it to kill you.

 

_You're delirious._

 

**Shut up, brain!**

 

Fighting the onslaught of another surge of nausea, you tilt your head back and look up to the Breach in the sky. It swirls menacingly and the movement of your head makes you have a coughing fit. It wracks through your entire being, and an incredible amount of pain works its way up from the chest. Tears pour down your cheeks as you fold in on yourself, slumping to the side, no strength to stay sitting.

 

_What about the Breach?_

 

You try to move, but no limbs respond. Everything is spinning, and it's terrifying, your eyes stuck on the swirling mass of green and brown up in the skies. You still can't feel your left arm.

 

_Solas sure has a lot to answer for!_

 

Then you are brusqely forced to sit back up and Cassandra appears in your line of vision. Her hands are holding you steady as the last of the coughs makes something wet trickle down your jaw and throat.

 

Suddenly you can hear words, and this time, they're not gibberish.

 

“Prisoner! We don't have much time, each time the Breach expands, the mark spreads... and it is killing you.”

 

 _No shit Sherlock,_ you want to say, but nothing but a wheeze comes out as an answer along with more coughs.

 

Her words are nothing new, you know the mark is fatal, you know the two of you need to get to Solas and have him stabilize it. You know that time is of the essence here. But you still can't seem to move.

 

_You will have to live with this pain... until the mark claims your arm at the end of Trespasser._

 

But it’s _already_ claimed your arm.

 

_You broke the game, didn't you?_

 

Or perhaps one should say that it is Solas who claimed the arm.

 

 _Really? You're making jokes_ _**now** _ _?_

 

You really need to get your body moving. At the edge of your peripheral vision, a woman in red and white Chantry robes appears, and she's out of breath. Her forehead is glistening, and her lithe form crouches by your side. She starts reciting the chant of light and you narrow your eyes at her.

 

“Lady Seeker, we can do no more,” pant pant, “the prisoner is not responding. I do not know what to…”

 

_Responding to what?_

 

Cassandra's eyes darken as she grabs the woman, effectively cutting her off. The woman's eyes go round, mouth as well, as the seeker shakes her brittle frame. You're thankful you're not at the receiving end of the seeker's visible rage.

 

“Spare me your excuses, and bring me Solas! We need to get her to the Breach before it's too late!”

 

You are forced to look away as it literally feels like you're about to cough up a lung. At least the pain from the mark is being dulled somehow, even if you arch like a god damn lightening bolt to try to withstand the onslaught of coughs.

 

“With all due respect, Lady Seeker, Ser Solas is not here, he went out with the dwarf to…”

 

Cassandra interrupts the woman by releasing her arms and throwing her own in the air. With a shout the Seeker turns right back to you.

 

You blink dumbly as she grabs you instead, your body too exhausted to fight the grip. Your left arm dangles like nothing but a piece of meat as she tries to get you up. Despite her best efforts you can't seem to make any limbs move.

 

“We must hurry, can you stand?”

 

You shake your head and even that movement makes the world spin.

 

Cassandra makes a noise then digs her feet into the ground and squats with her back to you.

 

“Hold onto my back,” she says, and you more or less slump forward.

 

As she lifts you up, your chest once more constricts. You start to violently cough, all nerve endings sending white hot lava through your every vein. You shake like a leaf from the force of it, and tears pour out of your eyes as you gasp like a fish on dry land. Where did that numbing sensation disappear to? You’d love some Elfroot.

 

_God, but you miss Earth and all the painkillers available there._

 

“Hold on, prisoner. I will make haste,” the seeker says, but you have no strength to answer.

 

The cold, hard shoulder your cheek lands on quickly turns warm, slippery and wet. The coppery scent is overpowering, but your head won't obey so you can move away from it. Then she starts to move and the world starts bobbing.

 

Each time your cheek hits the hard armor, a cough follows.

 

 _You miss_ _Mr_ _._ _Fluffins._

 

As your surroundings begin to blur, it is growing increasingly hard to stay awake. You try to breathe through your nose to help your burning lungs get more air, but it’s becoming increasingly hard to force down any sort of air and your nose bubbles each time you exhale.

 

_You're choking._

 

Your heart starts to pick up speed as you try to properly breathe through your mouth, but even _that_ is nearing impossible since it only makes black ichor bubble out of your mouth and nose. It smears all over Cassandra's back and you fight the urge to cry.

 

This is not how you pictured choking on your own blood would feel like.

 

 _It_ _’_ _s ten times worse._

 

“Just a little longer, prisoner, hold on!” Comes Cassandra's voice from somewhere far away followed by a string of curses.

 

You feebly try to hold up your hands in acquiescence, but both appendages have gone numb and unresponsive, limbs of dead flesh that dangle at Cassandra's side.

 

_You miss your apartment. You miss Mr Fluffins. You even miss your former life._

 

Maybe … you just need to rest for a bit.

 

It would help, wouldn't it? Surely you can go right back to suffering for Thedas' sake after a tiny power nap?

 

God knows you've earned a little reprieve.

 

_Just a couple of seconds._

 

 _**Just... a couple of seconds** _ , your mind agrees as you close your eyes.

 

_ **Chapter summary:** _

_**Basically you wake up a second time, only that this time you wake up as a woman. You have a moment of panic where you remember past events that led you here and lo and behold! Apparently everyone ha s grown a f oo t and a half since last time.** _

 

_**You act suspiciously, the characters react to your behavior, you tell half truths, they react to that. Then you manage to get Leliana out of the room, canon events back on track and head outside. Outside the events follow the game faithfully and the Breach expands, causing you to black out. But not before noting the fact that the mark seems to have spread too fast. Well beyond the point where Solas' takes the inquisitor's arm in the Trespasser DLC.** _

 

 _**You wake up, everything hurts, and you wonder if you totally broke the game. You vomit a lot of black stuff, Cassandra then appears along with a** _ _**C** _ _**hantry** _ _**Sister** _ _**who implies that she is unable to get you to respond to her healing, Cassandra has a fit since no one can get Solas. Meanwhile you can't seem to make your legs or arms work and so the seeker heaves you up on her back and runs off with you piggybacking her. You miss your home, your family, and you wish to sleep as you hang there like a lump of meat, having hard time breathing, blood bubbling out** _ _**of your** _ _**nose** _ _**when** _ _**you breathe, so you can do nothing but cough your lungs out. Then you** _ _**realize** _ _**you** _ _**’** _ _**re exhausted and decide to give in and take a little** _ _**power nap** _ _**.** _

 

_**Just a couple of seconds.** _

 


	17. Oh for Christ's sake!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG apparently I can do nothing but apologise in these notes - once again I've been unable to update until now due to IRL issues. SO SO SO SORRY PEOPLE! Please feel free to comment and/or review and let me know what you think - it might help a bit when IRL life takes an ugly turn <3 <3
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to a very SPECIAL reviewer... Yes, you know who you are - your lovely comment had me furiously type this chapter, and hurry it out <3 <3 *hugs*
> 
> And, as you all know, this chapter wouldn't have been this flowing, or correct if not for the AMAZEBALLS author and BETA RikaDivani!!! Go check her out, she's both on Tumblr and AO3 under the name "RikaDivani"! <3 <3

Waking up this time is like struggling to the surface from the depths of a deep ocean, stuck in a tangle of sheets and glue. Your limbs are heavy, sluggish, aching in places you didn’t even know you could pull or strain. It feels like you could go right back to sleep, preferably for a whole day or three.

 

You groan when your left palm twinges with pain, yawning and coughing at the same time.

 

From that you can quickly deduct that your lungs aren't on fire any longer, and you don't feel the overwhelming urge to cough them right up.

 

You move your surprisingly pain free feet, and slowly open your eyes with yet another yawn.

 

_That must have been one hell of a long powernap._

 

The first thought that comes to mind is that you might finally be back home since it's not cold, and despite feeling sluggish, you actually feel pretty well considering the past days’... events. It might have been a cool dream or wish, to wake up in Thedas back when you didn't know how it would actually be, but now you are sick and tired of that shitty world and its defiance of universal laws.

 

You yawn again, mumbling that you desperately want to be back in sanity-land, Earth, planet Tellus,  _home_.

 

The universe should cut you some slack. You've felt enough pain and misery to last a lifetime, or five, and so far you've actually survived with your sanity intact. Quite a feat, no?

 

You groan again as blood rushes back to your feet and yawn once more, blinking furiously to clear the haze draped over your vision.

 

It is dark, and before your brain catches up, you yawn again.

 

Are you finally home then? Because you can not feel Cassandra's armoured shoulders against your cheek and the world isn't bobbing any longer, and surprisingly, nothing hurts at the moment.

 

Moving a bit, and blinking some more, you realise two things as your vision is fully restored.

 

One, you can move your legs and feet just fine, and the second is that nope, definitely not home. The room is dimly lit and  _where have you seen that before?_

 

_It.. can't be, right?_

 

The ground is hard beneath your legs and that is definitely a torch on the wall, and that is definitely an empty cell and...

 

_You can not move your hands._

 

“Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now.”

 

_Oh no._

 

“The conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead…except for you,” the famous, or infamous at this point, Seeker speaks as she circles you on the spot.

 

You bite your lower lip until it bursts and fills your mouth with a strong coppery taste. It is all you can do to not tear at your bound hands or scream from frustration.

 

_The game restarted again._

 

**Oh, thank you very much for pointing out the obvious, brain.**

 

“You always think I did it,” you reply with a mix of a snort and high pitched groaning.

 

 _Really? You have to do this_ again?

 

The warrior growls, and reaches forward to grab your hands. You don't resist and simply let her, the memory of her sword touching the skin of your throat still fresh in your mind.

 

“Explain this!”

 

The anchor crackles in response as she throws the hands right back into your lap.

 

 _At least the measurements are not completely off this time around,_ you think as you take note of the fact that your hands are bigger than Cassandra's and dark.

 

Very dark.

 

_Oh for..._

 

“Believe me,” you blurt in irritation, “I both literally  _and_ figuratively  _can not_ explain how the hell that thing ended up there.”

 

_What the actual fuck, game!_

 

You’ve never heard of a fanfiction like this. No comics, no fanarts, nothing. Nothing where the character restarts the world, not even once, let alone multiple times! Especially with the way you seem to be hopping bodies…yeah you’ve never seen that before.

 

You look down at your dark hands, and sigh.

 

The biggest question here was  **why** did it keep restarting at this particular point. Maybe there was something wrong with the other two episodes, events, lives, or whatever you could call them, and so, just like a computer, it needed to be restarted? Malfunctions or…bugs…or something.

 

 _Really? Malfunctions and bugs?_   _As if this is still a computer program? In the Real World?_

 

**Oh shut up, brain.**

 

As if to rescue you from your mind's hopeless wanderings, Leliana enters the room and silence instantly reigns. Face hooded, as always, the rogue stalks over to you just as Cassandra takes a step back, blood vessels on her forehead looking ready to burst.

 

“Listen, I don't know how it got there, I swear!” you exclaim, trying to convey all your confusion over the situation into that single sentence.

 

What you say is the literal truth because you have no clue as to what the hell's going on or why  _you_ of all people ended up as the inquisitor stuck inside a god damn  _video game._

 

“You're lying!” Cassandra shouts and jumps forward.

 

You brace yourself for an attack, but as you do, Leliana springs forward, body poised like a dancer.

 

Her right arm's firm grip is what stops the enraged seeker from reaching you, “we need him, Cassandra.”

 

“...him?”

 

 _Not_ _**again** _ _! WHY_ _!?_

 

This whole sex-swapping, race-changing--  _thing_  is really starting to wear on your sanity. Why the hell so many girls in modern girls in Thedas' fics loved their new lives as something or someone else in Thedas, you'd never understand. You'd take modern, NORMAL life over this  _any day!_

 

_Don't forget to speak or Cassandra might decide to use that pointy sword of hers again._

 

“I don't understand,” you speak then as the two people staring at you start twitching, both following every single movement you make with their eyes.

 

Not in the sense that they think at least. It is almost eerily fitting how spot on the game dialogue is every single time, even though these particular Inquisition members went bonkers last time you woke up.

 

_Here's to praying that everything loaded correctly this time._

 

**Oh, will you shut up already!**

 

Leliana walks closer, her arms crossed.

 

“Do you remember…”

 

“How this all began?” you interrupt, sick of being in manacles, sick of the entire situation and more than ready to throw in the towel.

 

_Here's to hoping your little intervention doesn't corrupt the world data._

 

**Shut. UP!**

 

The rogue narrows her eyes and something glitters in their depths.

 

“Yes... how this all began?” Leliana finishes with a drawl, and you watch her right hand faintly touching the hilt of one of her daggers.

 

_Shit. RECTIFY THAT RIGHT NOW!_

 

“Well yes, but.. not in the way you think,” you hurry to explain, mind going haywire with possibilities and images of Cassandra's murderous glares and sword pointed against your throat.

 

_Well, guess following game script is totally overrated. Not like everything might've gone to shit because of you acting out of character. Might be the reason the game keeps restarting._

 

 **Shut. The. Hell. Up, brain!**   **Can't think properly!**

 

“Not in the way I…” The rogue tilts her head and her stance becomes predatory as she looms above you, “you have no idea what I am thinking,  _ben hassrath_ , and even if you think your kind does…”

 

Ben Hassrath? Hold on a second here, isn't that what the Iron Bull calls himself? Wait.. That word means something, doesn't it? Why can't you seem to remember  _what?_

 

“I-I-I-I REMEMBER RUNNING!” you hastily add in a somewhat shrill voice “And a woman and…”

 

The dots suddenly connect.

 

Dark hands _._  Ben hassrath. You're a bloody  **Qunari!** And a male one, at that. Well, you  **did** create a Qunari, but that was only to try out the new hair mods!

  


_You know what Ben hassrath means in Qunlat, don't you?_

 

Yes, they're the Qunari equivalent of spies and interrogators, aren't they? Then that means she thinks you were at the conclave to spy on the meeting on non friendly terms and.. Oh god, this save is messed up  _as well!_

 

“A woman?” Leliana asks, eyes narrowing even further as her lips are drawn into a fine line. She leans slightly backwards, stance still predatory, the tip of her fingers still touching the hilt of her daggers.

 

You fight the urge to curl up into a ball and hope that you would somehow miraculously end up back home again.

 

How could _you_  be a bloody **Qunari?!**  Male, okay that is so been there done that at this point, but a god damn QUNARI?!

 

_Really? Shouldn't you be more concerned with just_ _**how much** _ _you might've already butterflied this save to hell?_

 

“Yes... there were things out to get me and…” you hastily add as the seeker opens her mouth.

 

_Do not stutter. Keep calm, she already is suspicious due to your... precarious nature._

 

“Stop!” a woman with a familiar American accent calls out.

 

Might have been that you all blanch, because both Cassandra and Leliana stiffen and look to the side simultaneously. You can do nothing but blink because you'd recognize that voice actor's voice anywhere.

 

Sumalee Montano, aka the  _real_ inquisitor's voice actor.

 

_What. The. Actual..._

 

“I was there when the place blew up and he was not there as a spy, he was there as my bodyguard!” she interrupts your mind's barrage of questions.

 

What?

 

Your mind reels at this new information.

 

Did two of you make it? That's not supposed to happen, only one is supposed to be the survivor and that one becomes the Inquisitor and...

 

 _Well. That would explain why these saves are so bugged, corrupt or whatever you w_ _anna_ _call it._

 

**SHUT THE FUCK UP, BRAIN!**

 

This is ridiculous, this whole situation is absolutely CRAZY! You have had ENOUGH!

 

“Enough!” you bellow, unable to hold it back.

 

The strength of your voice actually has your ears ringing from the force of it. You can't touch them, but they sting from the force of your own voice.

 

_Apparently Qunari hear very well._

 

… **.....**

 

Cassandra opens her mouth, vein protruding at the top of her forehead, but you instantly cut her off.

 

“If you believe me a spy, nothing I say will make a difference, so we can either stay here and you can let me die here from the mark on my hand, or we can head outside and test it on the Breach. Who knows, we might even discover something useful!”

 

Maybe revealing that you know about the Breach, that the mark is fatal is a bad thing, and definitely not how everything goes in the game but just the fact that  _two of you_ made it tells you that you've already butterflied this world with unknown consequenses.

 

_Yolo._

 

… **...**

 

“Very well,” Cassandra surprises you by saying. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take the prisoner outside.”

 

The rogue traces your form with a clear frown on her face, then leans forward.

 

 

“Do not think this is over, ben hassrath. One way or the other... the truth always prevails,” she hisses, then purse her lips and stalk out of the room.


	18. PTSD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all of you who commented on my last chapter- a HUGE thank you, a HUGE hug to you all- your comments motivated me to keep trying, keep writing, keep up the pace enough to be able to post this as chapter as 'soon' as I did!
> 
> This time, my lovely, darling BETA have not beta'd the chapter. Why? Her internet is being a douche. I pray it'll solve itself soon, because I'll miss her magic touch!! She's still awesome, epic and hard working though! You should totally check her out!
> 
> https://rikadivani.tumblr.com/  
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikaDivani/pseuds/RikaDivani
> 
> Beware of errors- I'm not a native speaker! Please forgive me, and let me know if there are any major errors- I try to do my best, but... I'm not native so... *bows head over and over again*

You fight the urge to snort as the soldiers at the door literally jump to the side to give Leliana space to exit.

  
  


_What did you expect?_

  
  


You desperately want to facepalm as the soldiers close the door behind her.

 

_Well, that was..._

 

Perhaps not your brightest of moments, but at least it got the game moving forward.

 

_Game?_

 

Cassandra uncrosses her arms as she comes back and starts fiddling with your manacles. You lean slightly backwards, still uncomfortable being so close to someone who literally pointed a sword to your throat earlier.

 

_Yes, it's called PTSD, your phycologist back home would've said._

 

… **..**

 

What did happen? You lower your voice as the knot at the back of your throat loosens, hoping that the seeker can see the earnesty in your eyes.

 

At this point you've probably got so many Cassandra disapproves, it might be a good idea to try and salvage whatever relationship the two of you will share, or risk her sharp sword pressed against your throat once more.

 

_Steel. It cuts, you can feel the trickle of the blood, so cold, so sharp so..._

 

**Real.**

 

You shudder and fight the urge to scoot backwards.

 

_Focus on your frustration instead!_

 

You watch in heavy silence as the seeker finally seems to come to her senses about how the lock works, deftly getting the manacles off. You make no move, simply let her bind your large, dark hands and make an effort to not be affected by the memories of the last time you were at Cassandra's mercy.

 

You deeply inhale the air for a second, and realise she smells … female, leather, metal, and sweat. Your nose crinkle and it's your turn to make a disgusted noise. This whole Qunari-über-sense-thing is going to grate on your nerves, you just know it. Especially when the seeker smells so utterly _alien._

 

You are beyond fed up with this whole “girl falls into Thedas”, it's gotten impossible to express it in words. There's been times you've been afraid, been miserable, met friggin' Solas and you're still … you, and the game still isn't broken enough to the point its not Thedas anymore. In other words, canon game events can DUCK RIGHT OFF. No offense, but this whole restarting buisness and watching out what you say all the time, just isn't working!

 

_Perhaps that_ **youtuber's** _whose name you've forgotten, with her 'dragon-blood theory' of the Qunari has some truth to it, because EVERYTHING has a smell!_

 

You try not to think of the way Cassandras smell keeps shifting and the way the air smells stale.

 

_Stop thinking about it, and you won't notice it as much._

 

Easier said than doen, but you try anyway.

 

“It will be... easier to show you” Cassandra speaks suddenly, voice clipped, and stands up while holding her hand out.

 

You know the gesture, and hesitantly accept the help to stand up. Cassandra's gloved hand is rough, cool against your too-big right hand. You swallow, barely resisting the urge to try and bolt. You're big, you're sturdy, you're a friggin' QUNARI MAN! You could probably take out those guards with your... large-ness.

 

_Seriously? Is that even a word?_

 

_**Shut up!** _

 

This time, as the two of you head out, you turn your head to try and figure out who your mystery defender is.

 

You know she's there, the _real_ inquisitor.

 

What does that make you? An impostor? Fake? Some sort of … spirit inside another person's body?

 

_A joke._

 

You bite your lower lip and actually agree with your mind, for once.

 

It is not Ma'edh'lin that meets your eyes, it is actually the female qunari you named Katherine, a character you vividly remember creating just for fun. She sits there with her pure white hair, head shaved on one side, elegant horns that curl along the skull along with her trademark huge golden earrings. Her eyes are as purple as you made them in the game, and even the special armour you got from purchasing the Qunari dlc is what she's wearing.

 

It feels almost eerie, the way her violet eyes meet yours in a steady gaze. There is recognition there, yet you have absolutely no recollection of her besides that brief 'encounter' when she was nothing but a character behind a computer screen. You bite your lower lip as Cassandra tugs on your arm, most likely losing patience with the two of you having some sort of awkward staring match.

 

_Didn't she say she was there? At the conclave?_

 

Katherine nods at you, full lips pursed in a thin line, as your arm is once more tugged on by the impatient seeker.

 

You nod back at her, not sure what else you can or am supposed to do, before turning and heading out the somewhat small door.

 

_Leave that for later, you need to focus on the now._

 

You do, and as you exit you think that it feels utterly _alien_ to have to lean slightly forward to walk out of the door. You've never been tall, it's... beyond strange. You wish that the universe which seemingly is having a blast making fun of you, could have at least let you keep your 'old' body.

 

_Don't think about it. Really, just don't._

 

Still, you shudder and almost miss the way the soldiers by the door scurry to give you space, their movements jittery and their eyes huge, deer-like. They're all staring at you as you pass, and silence reigns for a few seconds.

 

You struggle to keep facing forward instead of looking at the floor, not at all comfortable about the way everyone inside the church turn to look at the pair of you. Cassandra nods at a woman in robes, and you feel like you've seen her somewhere before, but you can't remember where or when.

 

At least them reacting with fear is somewhat of an upgrade from being thrown insults at, or even spit at, like back when you were an elven man.

 

Apparently prejudi are as common in Thedas as on Earth.

 

_Some things remain the same, real places or no._

 

You agree with that and breathe out a heavy sigh. You refuse to acknowledge all the new smells, some of which you have no words for, as you pass the people by. As the two of you near the door, it's as if a flip switches on. Everyone seems to suddenly speak once more, but in hushed whispers. As the doors open, you can hear a cacophany of whispers from all over the church.

 

_This super-hearing is already grating on your nerves._

 

This time when the door opens and the outside world with its fresh air and blinding white lights floods your vision, you are ready, already peering behind the back of your hands.

 

The cold, however, is unlike any time you can remember, hitting you like a bucket of icy cold water against your skin. Every little nervending is reacting to the cold, instantly causing you to start shivering violently.

 

Had your hands not been bound, you would have rubbed your arms and legs in a frenzy, or ran back inside.

 

_Iron Bull didn't seem to mind the cold._

 

Well, you're not him, and right now all sorts of places you didn't have a clue could get cold, are starting to go numb.

 

You reflexively look down as the two of you start walking in the crunching snow, instantly realising why it is that you are freezing. In fact, just like Katherine, you wear the Qunari Dlc's clothing which is most definitely not made for trampsing about in a winter wonderland.

 

_This just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?_

 

You curse beneath your breath and try to huddle as much as is possible with your hands being bound.

 

What you wouldn't have given for your cozy Canada Goose jacket back home.

 

_At this rate you won't ever see the place again, so perhaps its time to stop calling it 'home'?_

 

You shake your head at that, refusing to think of Thedas as home. Every step starts feeling far away as your feet go completely numb. By the time  your teeth starts chattering so loudly from the cold, you see people looking up and narrowing their eyes at you, Cassandra starts her in-game dialogue. 

 

_Or as you used to call it, game_ _monologue._

 

“We call it the Breach. It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour”

 

_No shit sherlock,_ you want to say, still blinking, desperate to cover yourself in something warm. Anything would suffice at this point, even running inside a completely stranger's tent. Your black canada goose jacket back home is mocking you, as you try to distract yourself by focuing on everything else.

 

_This is Thedas, you halfwit. Thedosians use mantles or cloaks, not jackets!_

 

You growl back at that, and almost stumble over a pile of snow, feet completely numb, numbness beginning to spread ever upwards. Even your cheeks hurts every time a particularly cold breeze blows by.

 

What would happen if you ask for a mantle or furry cloak, or whatever it is they use in Thedas to keep themselves warm?

 

_Perhaps you should ask. Not a great idea to develop hypothermia if you want to survive long enough to actually do something about the Breach._

 

How the hell did the Iron Bull not freeze his ass off in this cold?!

 

_Game mechanics._

 

Must be, and that must mean that wherever you are... is real, because you sure as hell is not unaffected by this frigid weather.

 

_It didn't even snow back in your hometown._

 

“It is not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.” Cassandra continues as you stumble more and more, almost walking straight into a child. The mother quickly rushes forward and steers it away from you, her glares easily hateful enough to burn a hole in your face, despite the winter weather.

 

_Are you turning into a popsicle?_

 

“O-k-k-k” Is all you can reply with, teeth chattering to the point where your jaw has begun to cramp in protest.

 

Either Cassandra doesn't notice the way you stutter in your response due to the cold, or she is too caught up in her canon script-monologue to care about you freezing your ass off.

 

_Are those icicles in your eyelashes?_

 

Then suddenly, she stops and heads over to you, makes a disgusted noise, then stomps off once again with the universal gesture to follow.

 

However, the two of you don't make it very far. In fact you have the time to walk precisely three steps before the Breach crackles, and all your senses are overloaded with unadulterated pain.

 

As always, your legs buckle and has you ending up on the side in the freezing snow while flailing about like a worm on a hook. With desperate gasps, you clutch the left wrist and thrash about.

 

_Green. Green green green green green green green green green_

 

You might have frightened Cassandra, because through the sheen of tears, and between your hollering, you can see the seeker's eyes widening to comic proportions. This time, and not to your relief, you stay concious throughout the entire ordeal. You would have preferred passing out, since the agony isn't even on a scale any longer.

 

_Screaming. Tearing. Bursting. More pain, more blood, meat dangling. It is spreading, it is spreading, oh god what do you do?!_

 

You vomit to the side, just barely able to have concious movements enough to not choke from the acid, as as the pain slowly dies down.

 

_Your psycologist would have a blast meeting you again. So many hours of therapy, and yet here you are._

 

**Can't. Think. Shut up!**

 

Panting and sweating rivulets down your forehead despite the cold, you make an effort to be able to look at the mark. Relief floods your entire being as you realise it has not spread as much as last time, or save, or whatever it had been.

 

_Your left arm dangles like nothing but a piece of meat as Cassandra tries to get you up. Despite her best efforts you can't seem to make any limbs move._

 

You move to sit up, forcing the memory away while touching your very much _responsive_ , non-bleeding arm..

 

With a shaky breath, you exhale, not sure when you started holding it, watching as the air forms a cloud in front of your face.

 

_You try to move, but no limbs respond. Everything is spinning, and it's terrifying, your eyes stuck on the swirling mass of green and brown up in the skies._

 

Reflexively you look up, eyes not really focusing on anything. As your heart slows down, you gaze at the swirling green up in the Breach. It looks just the same, same as every time before, and you shake your head violently, as if that would help _._

 

_Pain, it spreads, your spine archs, oh god, you can't breathe, it hurts, oh god, you can't..._

 

You inhale sharply, blinking frenetically all the while clenching your hands to get rid of the phantom sensation of choking. Perhaps you struggling to sit up is what snaps the seeker out of whatever her state of mind was a moment ago, and has her rushing over to your side.

 

“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads... and it is killing you” She speaks with a gravely tone of voice.

 

_If only she knew._

 

You bite your lower lip as she helps you stand, every muscle protesting at having to move. The only positive about your earlier work-out session, is that you're no longer freezing your ass off.

 

“Thank you” You manage rasp out, trying your best to keep a tight leash on the memories that just keeps popping up without warning.

 

_You can't breathe properly, and oh god, the snow is coloured red red red red red red red red_

 

The warrior's eyes goes round, and cheeks turn scarlet as you take a wobbling step towards her, she, a video game character, the only thing anchoring you to the _now_. The only thing _real. Human._

 

_You've been alone for a long time though, haven't you?_

 

“It is of no...” she starts, then narrows her eyes once more as the anchor sputters a bit in your hand.

 

She takes a step backwards and look to the side, expression closing off.

 

_Look at you being all... needy. You never were before._

 

**Shut up!**

 

Cassandra turns back, lips in a thin line, arms crossed.

 

“The mark may be the key to stopping all this... but we don't have much time” She adds, and you nod immediately.

 

_Anything to get away from the memories._

 

Cassandra looks strangely at you for a second, before nodding back and heading into a tent. You stay, trying to not run off or go screaming in a corner.

 

_Running away or screaming in a corner sounds very brave._

 

**Oh for fuck's sake, shut up already!**

 

The air forms a cloud in front of your face as you constantly change which football to lean on. Your perspiration is cooling your body down quickly, and soon enough you're back to shivering, cursing the fact that your hands are bound so you can do nothing to warm yourself up.

 

_And to think you once complained about having to do laundry every wednesdy and feed your cat at 5AM._

 

… **.....**

 

Ever since you arrived in Thedas, your life has been nothing but pain, misery and everything has seemed hellbent on killing or maiming you.

 

_Well, it takes no genius to realise that there is nowhere for you to run. Just look at this place._

 

You do.

 

_They're as desperate as you, here at Haven. And all are equally fucked if you don't make it._

 

You swallow. You have nothing to offer them. You are not **Thedosian.**

 

_Well, someone has to stop that Breach from growing._

 

You blink away a stray lock of hair that blows into your face, gnawing on your lower lip until the flavour of copper pours over your tongue. Your heart races as you try to keep the pent up emotions from bursting out.

 

_Whether this place is real or no, the entire world blowing up is undoubtfully going to kill you.... Even if you're not a Thedosian._

 


	19. At the end of one's wits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Let's have a gargantuan update one day early, just BECAUSE I love all of you who commented, and who loyally reads and bookmarks my fic <3 This is for YOU!
> 
> Also... sadly my Beta hasn't Beta'd this chapter either, but my hope is that when her internet starts working, she'll bounce right back <3 Give her all your love people, she's an AMAZING writer, not to mention a very kind person who has a heart of GOLD! Seriously, you should check her out <3
> 
> https://rikadivani.tumblr.com/  
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikaDivani/pseuds/RikaDivani

 

_So you're going to give up? Remain passive?_

 

Well.. you are certainly going to do s _omething_ here _,_ whether you'll consent to it or not, the real question is how **_well_** you'll do it.

 

… **...**

 

You need to start somewhere, baby steps, then you can find a quiet place and figure out a way to get back home. You ended up here somehow, and so there has to be a logical conclusion _why_ you did, and how to get back.

 

_There has to be._

 

Not restarting the game, and actually survive intact without choking, getting skewered by demons or raging Cassandras, sounds like a good start.

 

_Perhaps it was simply that particular save being corrupted, this hasn't shown any tendencies of her wanting to kill you just yet._

 

You bite your lower lip, mind far away.

 

Just hold on, just stay strong, just keep sane, until you get back home.

 

_Oh, your therapist back home is going to have a field day listening to you trying to explain all of... this._

 

You shake your head at that, and try to not think about the fact that your entire mouth tastes of copper. At least you're not hungry or thristy, or god forbid, having... other sort of needs.

 

_You will have to face that one way or another._

 

You hang your head, blood rushing to your cheeks.

 

Considering the game's events and who you ended up as, running away is not an option. As you stated earlier – all are equally screwed if you decide to quit the field.

 

It all boils down to one particular question, doesn't it? Why did _you,_ out of all the people on Earth, end up in Thedas?

 

_Why you?_

 

The seeker opening the tent flaps right in front of your eyes snaps you out of your reminiscing, body instantly tense.

 

_You can feel the cold steel as it touches the skin of your vulnerable throat. You know that if you make one wrong move... her sword will pierce the skin._

 

You swallow harshly, and force yourself to stand still as the seeker holds out something gray seemingly made of, what you guess is, fennec or ram fur. You crafted enough of those during your single player playthroughs to recognise the fabric.

 

You silently stare at the cloak, eyes round as you follow each contour – it is so utterly  _real_.

 

_Alien._

 

Will there ever be a time you won't be flooded with the sense of feeling so terribly _displaced?_ Out of place? You've never worn a cloak before, and why should you?

 

 _Stop thinking so much. You_ will _get past the prologue, and then you_ will _find a way to get back home._

 

You nod slightly to yourself, unable to stay completely still, feet moving one step backwards as the seeker shaked the fur, eyes narrowing. There is an insane urge to fidget beneath her glare, but you don't have the courage to move any more than you already did. Glancing up at Cassandra's chocolate coloured eyes, you reach out and accept the offering, making a concious effort not to touch any part of her armoured hands.

 

As the soft, yet still rouch fabric hangs from your hands, you ca not help but notice the stark contrast of gray against your dark, almost black, hands. You take a subconcious deep breath, and notices that it smells nice, it smells a mix of sandalwood and... leather? Also there's a hint of sweat, and it clicks in your head.

 

_A man has used it before you._

 

You hope it is clean enough to use.

 

_Really?_

 

“How do I put it on?” You can't help but ask after a few seconds of studying the clasp.

 

The seeker makes her trademark disgusted noise along with the raising of one eyebrow, before brusquely draping the furry clothing around your broad frame. It is with no small amount of chewing on your lower, torn lip, that you manage to stay still beneath the rough ministrations. The seeker still smells like leather, sweat and metal and you fight to not notice that she also smells female, and that it's just so _weird_ that you can recognise that!

 

You swallow deeply, awkwardly, noticing just how far the warrior reaches around your frame... which is barely at all.

 

Fighting an urge to sneeze, you move your head to the side, desperately trying to focus on anything else, like.. the snow. It smells... well.. snow. Cold. Crisp air, and oh, that's smoke and... suddenly you feel very uncomfortable in other places as well.

 

You try to stand differently, move a bit to the side, change which football to stand on, but nothing relieves the tightness.

 

_Oh... oh no..._

 

Suddenly you feel so awkward the feeling is almost tangible.

 

As you realise what's going on... you blush so hard, heat going all the way up to your ears. You literally wish the Earth would open up and swallow you whole, and you're pretty sure your cheeks could rival a tomato at this point, even with your dark complexion.

 

_Bet other parts are huge too._

 

You cough at that, looking anywhere but on the seeker.

 

A memory pushes itself to the surface as the seeker's sword makes a clinking noise when she takes a few steps back.

 

_The cold, hard shoulder your cheek lands on quickly turns warm, slippery and wet. The coppery scent is overpowering, but your head won't obey so you can move away from it._

 

You exhale through the nose, heart racing once more as you fight the phantom sensations flooding your system.

 

_At least that took the edge of your other... predicaments._

 

… **....**

 

All of a sudden you miss Earth to the point where you could have literally taken any deal to get back, envisioning yourself hiding beneath your covers, the large duvet enveloping all of your body, shielding you, cradling you, _hiding you_. When you get back you're going to...

 

 _You mean_ if _you get back home._

 

No. You can't think like that.

 

You try to not think about your heightened sense of smell, the fact that you're a guy of another race and focus on the smells of this place. You _need_ to get home _._

 

With another disgusted noise, the seeker crosses her arms and stomps on the ground, and you almost jump at the unexpected noise it produces.

 

_You seriously need to stop getting trapped inside your own mind and get right back to that Breach-closing buisness so you can start figuring out a way to get home._

 

“We don't have time to stand around, prisoner” Cassandra sspeaks sternly then turns on the spot and stomps off.

 

As you move to follow, memories along with phantom sensations, once more floods the edge of your vision.

 

_You try to breathe through your nose to help your burning lungs get more air, but it’s becoming increasingly hard to force down any sort of air and your nose bubbles each time you exhale._

 

You instinctively move your hands to touch your throat.

 

 _No, that is in the past. You_ can _breathe._

 

_**Inhale.** _

 

You need to close that Breach, no one else can.

 

_Exhale._

 

You have no choice, move those feet.

 

_One foot in front of the other._

 

There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

 

**Breathe.**

 

You gasp like a fish on dry land, fighting an onslaught of emotions, all rising like a tide inside your chest, constricting, constricting...

 

_Breathe._

 

You clench and unclench your hands, refusing to give in to the heart racing inside your chest, refusing to let in to the chaotic emotions that you know are going to make you feel faint and out of breath.

 

As Cassandras back disappears, you pick up the pace, refusing to acknowledge the way the people stop to gawk at you.

 

_Just breathe._

 

You nod.

 

_There has to be some sort of connection here you're missing, focus on that instead. Rational thinking helps._

 

Besides the obvious?

 

_Yes, besides that. If you figure out what went wrong or happened, you can make this all stop, you can go home. Never have to deal with any more Breach or Herald or Inquisitor buisness._

 

You curse under your breath, grateful for the way parents usher their children away from you, because the way you curse is nothing a child should ever listen to.

 

Truly fearing to be left behind all of a sudden, you pick up the pace even further, knowing the path in Haven like the back of your pocket since you spent a lot of time exploring back when it was nothing but a fantasy world behind a screen. Now you're grateful for that.

 

_Don't think so much. Just breathe. One foot in front of the other._

 

Yes. Focus.

 

_Don't forget to breathe._

 

You exhale at that and with large strides, you manage to catch up with the seeker soon enough.

 

_Rational thinking. What is the reoccurring factor, what connects all of this?_

 

The game restarting.

 

 _Yes, you've stated that already, but_ why _does it keep restarting and why do you keep ending up in a new body each time?_

 

You have absolutely no idea or theory for that matter to answer those questions, and being in the situation you are, analyzing such huge things as body swapping, hopping, whatever you'd call it, is near impossible.

 

_You need to start somewhere, or do you want to remain stuck inside a fictional world forever?_

 

You shudder.

 

_No, exactly._

 

It is hard to pass by the empty buildings and corners, each one creating an insane urge to hide behind each and every one of them.

 

_Keep walking. Don't stop._

 

You nod at yourself.

 

_Rational thinking._

 

**Yes.**

 

_Breathe._

 

**Yes.**

 

When you're back at Haven, you silently promise yourself that you're going to sit down and put all pieces together, ponder the details more closely. There has to be a way back. If there's a way in, there's a way out, and you won't remain sane if you stay here.

 

_You're already taken quite a few steps down insanity lane._

 

It is impossible to argue with that and so you put more effort into matching the warrior's pace.

 

_The sooner you close the Breach, the sooner you can stop and think, analyse, and find a way to get back home._

 

As the seeker starts her in-game monologue about Haven, as if nothing's amiss, and talk about everything you've already listened to several times before, you zone out. The snow crunching beneath your feet and the way the skies crackle every now and then, it all vanishes as you once more turn inwards.

 

_You've done nothing but turned inwards for quite some time now._

 

Well, there is a reason you do, beyond the fact that your sanity is faltering. If you thought you had it rough before, back when you were a modern citizen, well... that doesn't even play in the same league.

 

You've never even once had to fight so hard to keep yourself from ending up inside memories, or keeping yourself from having a meltdown as you do right now.

 

If not for the fact that you ended up as the inquisitor – you would have thrown in the towel a long time ago, not to mention yelled “FUCK OFF” at the top of your lungs to the entire world many times over, preferably while hiding somewhere in the middle of nowhere until you figured out a way to get back home.

 

 _Not to further ruining your mood, but in the end it all boils down to one single thing. You are_ _**worthless** _ _in this world._

 

There is no secret that you, a modern day citizen of Earth, computer whizz and booky geek, have no skills or abilities whatsoever that might help anyone in a fictional game. Even your leadership is about as worthless as can get, you always preferred to hide whenever they did group assignments in school, or stay in the background during playtime all the way back in kindergarden. Not that you'd classify yourself as shy per say, you just... Can't handle too many people, too many faces, too many impressions, too much... everything.

 

 _Which is why you should hurry up and be done with the Breach so you can get home. This world, and the role you've been given, doesn't belong to_ you.

 

Bowing your head slightly, you agree with yourself that you are just about ready to be done with this part indefinitely.

 

If you're lucky enough, you ponder, you'll find a way to make Cassandra the leader of the inquisiton early on if you don't find a solution to getting back home right away.

 

_And butterfly the world further to hell?_

 

**It's already been butterflied to hell, and if you get home, you can just restart the game and make the world as it should again.**

 

_So you're going to hide inside that cabin? Hide from the world? Do nothing?_

 

There seems to be no decisive answer to that, but a tiny voice inside your mind keeps screaming 'YES!' all the same.

 

You blink as a snowflake lands on your nose, the frigid weather once more reminding you that you're not home.

 

_Either way, the first thing you'll have to do is make it past a horde of demons and fight an even larger demon without ending up dying or being thrown right back at the beginning again._

 

You swear you'll throw in the towel for real this time if that happens.

 

_Just hurry up and seal the Breach, you can stop and think later._

 

“Until the Breach is sealed” Cassandra's somber voice interrupts your train of thoughts as she walks in front of you, drawing a small dagger from its sheath.

 

A rush of adrenaline hits you like a tidal wave, and you stumble backwards.

 

_You can feel the cold steel as it touches the skin of your vulnerable throat. You know that if you make one wrong move... her sword will pierce the skin._

 

“Oh oh oh god, I-I-I'll behave! P-p-please...” you blurt out and the blade hesistates.

 

“You will have a trial. I can promise no more” she speaks hesitantly, before cutting through the rope with a quick movement.

 

Your heart almost skids to a halt at that, eyes blinking frenetically to stay concious.

 

She narrows her eyes before sheathing her weapon. With a look you can not decipher, she frowns and turn, heading briskly towards the end of the bridge with a gesture to follow.

 

For a moment you gasp like a fish on dry land, heart racing and the edge of the world blurs.

 

_Breathe. It's over. She only cut your rope._

 

She only cut you loose.

 

_Breathe, it's over._

 

**Focus!**

 

Air stuck at the back of your throat, you take a wobbling step forward, trying to blink to clear your vision. Taking another, then another.

 

_One foot in front of the other._

 

Perhaps you should call your therapist when you get back home.

 

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach” the warrior then speaks, as the two of you make slow way up that same path you have only braved twice despite having been _three_ characters already.

 

You shudder, thankful your lungs have gone back to functioning, as the seeker bellows to the gate guards that you are heading into the valley.

 

“ _You're_ _ _lying__ _!” the enraged warrior shouts back, and in one quick motion, presses the tip of her sword against your throat._

 

**BREATHE!**

 

Distracted, you almost collide into the people that, as per canon events, runs past, screaming about the end of the world.

 

_Focus!_

 

You sputter out a series of “I'm sorry” but they pay you no heed.

 

The flames licking the various debris along the path somehow helps you get back to yourself, helps get past the chaos inside your mind, anchoring you to the _now._

 

_You can't have a mental breakdown here. You just can't._

 


	20. In a state of shock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a rolllllll! YESSSS! :D Let's have this update just because... BECAUSE! 
> 
> To make sure my muse remains this happy and creative - feel free to write a comment, or press that kudos button -it's what keeps them updates comin' ;D <3 
> 
> Chapter's still not Beta'd :( Don't forget to check her out and give her some encouragement, people <3 RikaDivani on tumblr and that same pen name here on AO3 <3

Just as you round what looks like a broken wagon, the Breach undulates, crackles, and your legs buckle. The onslaught of pain isn't as bad as it could be, but you still grab a hold of your wrist and let out tiny gasps as you struggle to stay concious.

 

_Breathe._

 

Cassandra enters your field of vision just as the agony slowly starts ebbing away, a fire slowly dying, transforming into ember. With slightly narrowed eyes and firmly shut mouth, the warrior reaches out a steady arm, effectively hauling you back up on your feet.

 

Despite your massive body, she seems to have no trouble keeping you steady as the world slowly comes back into full focus. You shudder from the smell of dirty leather along with faint traces of copper and sulphur, but seeing how your legs still wobble like a newborn foal's, you accept the help.

 

_You're never going to get used to this heightened sense of smell._

 

“The pulses are coming faster now”

 

 _No shit sherlock!_ You want to growl out as you fight the insane urge to get away from this... _foreign_ smelling woman, move away from her intimidating person, memories of her sword against your throat threatening to surface with each breath she takes.

 

_You're never going to let that one go, are you?_

 

You shake your head at that, looking down at your marked palm while still trying to regain your breath. The anchor lies dormant once more, the mark nothing but a faint glowing green crackling almost softly.

 

 _It is anything_ but.

 

Though there is no denying the anchor is surprisingly tame in this playthrough since the last time you fell at this particular spot, you remember an all consuming pain, an agony you still shudder just _remembering_ the sheer intensity of.

 

 _But don't forget that it's the mark of an elven_ god _on_ your mortal _arm. And will you stop leaning on Cassandra and get moving already?_

 

You almost jump to the side as your concious mind catches up, managing to slow the jump to two steps backwards and a shrug.

 

“The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face”

 

_No shit sherlock._

 

Now is the canon time to ask Cassandra how you survived, get some more information about this character. Do something else than standing idle, anything to dispel this heavy silence.

 

_You are talking about yourself in third person._

 

Yes, but even so, you ARE a character, real or not. You need to face the fact that you are a Qunari _man_ in a _fictional_ world that seems to randomly restart and throw you into different bodies each time. Easiest way to describe yourself here in Thedas would be calling yourself a character.

 

_Or you've just invented a very good coping mechanism._

 

You seriously need to call your therapist when you get back home. She'll have a field day trying to analyse all... this.

 

_You do realise you've begun talking to yourself?_

 

**... shut up.**

 

“How **did** I survive the blast?” you ask then, not ready to face the consequenses of further disturbing canon events.

 

 _Same as last time, most likely. Also, you do realise you can never shut this off, this_ you _speaking_ _inside_ your own _mind._

 

“They say you and that other woman fell out of a rift, then both of you fell unconscious”. Cassandra shifts slightly, looking up into the skies. “They also say... a woman was in the rift behind you, a woman that did not make it out. No one knows who she was” As she looks at you this time, her posture turns stiff and lips stretches into a thin line.

 

_She wants you to elaborate._

 

You seriously have no clue about Katherine, and.. hold on a second, did she say that two of you fell out of the rift? In this world as well?

 

**Shit.**

 

_You really did break the game, didn't you?_

 

_**SHUT UP ALREADY!** _

 

Without answering, you turn, and start moving. Cassandra follows, and with a snort, takes large enough strides to end up taking the lead. You blink at that, but shrug it off.

 

_You have your quirks as well, you know._

 

This time when you enter the bridge you are so caught up in the loop of trying to wrap your head around just how far off track things seems to have been spiraling, to remember where you are. The instant the green flare from the Breach hits the ground, you are therefore caught by surprise. Letting out a shriek that could rival a monster in a horror game back home, the bridge collapses in on itself.

 

Cassandra and you tumble like ragdolls among the debris, but at least you do not injure yourself this time around.

 

_Anything's bound to be sturdy if its mixed with dragon blood._

 

Well, _if_ that theory is true, then yes, that might be the reason you're not cracked open like an egg from falling down a _**bridge** _.

 

_Call it... game mechanics._

 

Dragon blood or no, the landing is less than graceful and your back takes the brunt of it. With a groan, you take note of the fact that you don't seem to have broken anything. That fact has to be counted as the first time you've had any sort of luck since ending up stuck inside a game world.

 

Sprawled in a heap of limbs, the first thing that comes to mind is that your furry cloak has gotten stuck on something. With each movement, the clasp tightens around your throat. Coughing from the cut off air supply, you claw at the offending item, struggling to figure out how to open it, or if need be, rip it from the fabric.

 

_You try to breathe through your nose to help your burning lungs get more air, but it’s becoming increasingly hard to force down any sort of air and your nose bubbles each time you exhale._

 

You let out a scream at that, an unearthly sound unlike anything you've ever heard before tearing itself from the back of your throat. With a massive amount of adrenaline coursing each vein, you use the legs as a leverage before ripping the clasp off. With a snarl, you throw it away, a satisfying clinking noise following in the distance.

 

With a shudder, you slump forward, hands going up to your throat, thumbs massaging the larynx while trying to breathe properly.

 

_Your heart starts to pick up speed as you try to properly breathe through your mouth, but even that is nearing impossible since it only makes black ichor bubble out of your mouth and nose._

 

You blink and shake your head to try and clear away the memories, blood pounding in your ears as your hands pick up the pace of massaging the larynx. Drawing deep gulps of blessed air, you focus on nothing but that.

 

However, you have no time to recover as the ground suddenly starts vibrating. Your head snaps up at that, just as a green flare breaks loose from the Breach, hurtling itself into the ice.

 

Knowing you're more or less stranded where you are, you're allowed nothing but putting an effort into not letting your terror take over as a demon climbs out of a patch of sputtering green goop.

 

Thankfully, you don't have to do anything monster yourself since Cassandra appears the next second, charging the creature with zeal.

 

You blink, then instinctively roll to the side to avoid being caught up in the crossfire. Adrenaline still courses through every vein as you watch the battle unfold.

 

_You and the nightmare creatures are all that exist in that moment. The next second an uminaginable amount of pain explodes from your midsection, and the flow of time sputters right back to life._

 

As if sensing your inner struggle, a demon breaks loose from Cassandra's range, body slithering over the ice towards you with an open mouthed toothy grin...

 

**NO!**

 

“Get behind me!” Cassandra suddenly shouts, your limbs jerking at that like an electric shock went right through them _._

 

You react instinctively, literally jumping up on your feet and throwing yourself the next instant towards the wooden chest to your right. Dark hands smash down at the crate twice before it reveals a mind-blowingly large greataxe. No time to hesitate, you grab a firm hold of the weapon, fully expecting it to be heavy as hell to move but your head can only form one thought.

 

**Survive.**

 

_There's something behind you!_

 

The same instance the thought materializes, you swing the greataxe which is surpisingly light, in a wide arc, heart almost jumping out of your ears, senses cringing as the stench of sulphur drowns out all else.

 

However, the huge weapon cuts nothing but air, and there is no time to ponder that fact as another demon appears from a bubbling green patch of goo in the ice.

 

_To your right!_

 

You swing the huge weapon to your right, mind chanting the same word over and over again.

 

_**Survive! Survive survive survive survive survive survive survive survive survive survive survive** _

 

Letting out a snarl that would rival the Iron Bull himself, you charge at it, feet pounding as they dig into the in the ground, axe raised like a hammer above your head.

 

The fade creature stands no chance. You literally fling your axe at it, gaze locked onto its glowing eyes.

 

_**Survive!** _

 

It flails uselessly as the weapon all but cleaves it in two. With an unearthly shriek cut off at the end, the demon dissolves in a flurry of green.

 

Your brain doesn't catch up with the creature being gone until the weapon lodges itself in the ice causing a loud 'crack' to resound in the newfound silence. Exhaling, you take a step forward and grab the handle, clutching it as if your life depended on it. Long tangled knots of pure white hangs down as you try to focus, try to regain your sense of self, trying to find a way past the thick gray mass that has veiled your thoughts.

 

_You survived._

 

Panting, you hold on to the weapon like a lifeline, beads of sweat forming at the beginning of your hairline.

 

_Breathe. You did it._

 

You shudder at that, one leg buckling, but you still hold on to the greataxe, hands cramped around its handle.

 

_Breathe!_

 

You nod your head frantically in answer, adrenaline slow to leave as you remain kneeled there on the crackled ice, sulphuric stench gone, replaced with... sweat, metal and leather?

 

_That's Cassandra's scent. She's close!_

 


	21. Out of the frying pan...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, because I felt the last chapter was something of a 'filler', here - have a really PROGRESSIVE chapter that I split in two so you all could get a taste of what's to come... ;D
> 
> As always - comments and reviews are especially loved since they inspire my muse to keep feeding you these little treats! <3 <3 <3

 

You almost dislodge the weapon in defense, but rein in that impulse the last second.

 

“Drop your... oh” She interrupts herself, eyes comically wide as she stares at the weapon dug into the ground, before staring at you.

 

You have no idea how you look to her right now, it's not like you have a mirror available, and even if you did, you're not sure you'd like to gaze into it.

 

_You probably look like the avatar you created though most likely a grimy version of it._

 

Exhaling as she sheates her sword, you decide that you're not very keen on gazing into a mirror and finding someone you don't know staring back at you.

 

Before there's a chance to explore that thought further, Cassandra makes a disgusted noise, then starts walking away from the place.

 

_You need to go home, you need to go back to normalcy._

 

You stand as well, reluctantly releasing the handle. Each step feels heavier than the last as you leave the battle scene and weapon behind, a knot forming inside your chest.

 

_Don't think about the fact that you technically just murdered a living being._

 

That tried to kill you.

 

 _Then why are you feeling guilty?_ _This isn't Earth, these beings don't play by the same rules._

 

You don't know what to say to that, and your head feel strange. Everything is cold, you're slightly nauseus, legs aren't quite obeying your will. You rub your arms, wishing the furry cloak could have made it past this point. How are you going to make it to the Breach without it?

 

_Stop complaining. You're alive._

 

**...**

 

Cassandra has somehow vanished then reappeared, you can suddenly hear her feet crunching in the snow behind you.

 

Another knotted lock of white hair moves past your face as the wind starts picking up, and you remove it with your... elongated nails on a pair of dark hands? Shuddering, you look away from the alien looking appendages, ready to just lay down, curl into a ball and be done with it.

 

You're miserably cold, in a world you don't really know, in a situation that's been forced on you. How long are you going to cope? How long will your sanity last? Will you even make it out alive?

 

That last part has you rubbing your arms frantically, as you listen to the wind's whistling noises in the treetops around you.

 

Your teeth are chattering by the time the two of you crest a small hill, and the seeker who has kept quiet so far, halts you with a _cold_ hand on your shoulder.

 

_What's with all the touching?!_

 

You instantly stop and stiffen, memories of her sword against your throat threatening to breach your mental walls.

 

“Wait! I cannot protect you... and I cannot expect you to be defenseless”

 

You instantly move away from the hand, swallowing, suddenly nervous. Where is she going with this?

 

The warrior's left hand drops to her side and you suddenly realise she's holding your axe in the other. She holds it up, handle pointed towards you.

 

“I should have remembered you behaved yourself so far. Take it”

 

You blink.

 

 _You let out a hollering as the claws literally rips away chunks of flesh, the creature's attacks unrelenting against your vulnerable mid section._ _New blood mixes with the old, splashes the ground-- so much red it's your whole world. White and red- Red red red red red red red red_

 

With gargantuan effort, you force the memories back, caging them in a small part of your mind, annoyed at the fact that you can't seem to keep them permanently at bay.

 

_You really need to talk to someone._

 

Have no one to talk to, you argue, blood rising to colour your dark cheeks. With a pair of slightly shaking hands, you accept the weapon, making sure not to look the warrior in the eyes.

 

_You survived, that's all there is to it._

 

**Yes, but...**

 

You look up into the skies then, unsure what to say.

 

_Say thank you, perhaps?_

 

You swallow and look down again, the grip on the handle tightening.

 

_It's fear, isn't it?_

 

**Yes... it is.**

 

_You're afraid._

 

**Yes.**

 

You keep silently staring at the weapon, the design nothing fancy but you know from experience it is sturdy enough to cause damage without breaking.

 

_Even if it's a level one weapon, it is good enough for you to protect yourself._

 

You would prefer it if the robust, veteran warrior could be the one doing the protecting, but it is still true what Cassandra said.

 

_You can not be defenseless._

 

 **Never again** _,_ you agree, and as if the universe feels your resolve to keep the weapon, a small ray of sunlight makes it through the clouds, shining directly upon its sharp ends. The metal glitters like silverite against your dark, almost black, skin.

 

With a shaky exhale, you raise the weapon slightly as you stare at the seeker. That little sentence is stuck at the back of your throat even as you swallow, and open your mouth... only to close it again.

 

_Why can't you say it?_

 

An awkward air grows between the two of you as you keep trying, but all you get out are small choked noises. Cassandra leans on her other football, crossing her arms, seemingly patient enough to wait for you to make sense.

 

_Just say it!_

 

“Tha-ank y-you.” You finally manage to get out, and the seeker's jaw goes slack.

 

She draws an armoured hand through her short hair, eyes comically round. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out, before closing again. 

 

An awkward air rises between you two as heat floods your ears and cheeks.  You quickly break eye contact then pivot on the spot and flee from her.

 

_You really do have awful people skills, don't you?_

 

**Ugh. And the Breach..?**

 

_Yes, mustn't forget about that. The sooner you seal it, the sooner you can wake up in Haven and find a way home._

 

**Home...**

 

_Yes, home. But then you need to speed the canon events along._

 

**Yes.**

 

To your relief, the warrior rushes after you silently, the smell of metal, leather and sweat getting fainter the more the wind picks up pace. You start rubbing your arms in a frenzy, trying to keep your teeth from chattering to pieces.

 

You glance back at the warrior who follows you with an undecipherable look on her face, an quickly turn your head back as her gaze meets yours.

 

 _What's up with.._ that _?_

 

Having no answer, you merely shake your head, wishing the awkward air will go away on its own.

 

This time as you walk past the first couple of corpses dotting the ground, your mind doesn't react by flooding you with pity or sorrow. You simply refuse to look at them, still rubbing your arms like a madman.

 

As the seeker bends down, you tell her between clenched jaws, to keep moving. Cassandra huffs in reply, a silent question in her eyes, but you shake your head and simply trudge on.

 

_What are you doing?_

 

Freezing your ass off is what you're doing, and it doesn't get any better because you also have to carry a large greataxe with one hand, and that is not exactly helping out.

 

_Dying from hypothermia isn't an option, but you are acting out of character. What are you doing bossing Cassandra around?_

 

You don't know how to answer that.

 

_She's dangerous._

 

You nod, you know she is.

 

_Then don't forget that._

 

You won't.

 

Soon enough, just as your feet go numb, the pair of you make it to the hill cresting the second river. The first thing you notice is that a strong sulphuric odour permeats the air.

 

_That means demons._

 

You stop, and watch as Cassandra spots the floating creatures the same instant you do, rushing down in a flurry of clinking metal and snow. With a loud taunt, the warrior charges right into one of them using her famous shield bash. The demon screeches in anger, and swipes at her, but she's faster, literally scewering the creature on her sword.

 

With a small exhale, you swallow.

 

_You saw that?_

 

**Yes.**

 

 _Then make sure to get more 'Cassandra approves' from now on, or_ you'll _end up like that demon soon enough._

 

You swallow and watch as the battle unfolds down below, still rubbing your arms in a frenzy. Your hands have gotten tired from repeating the same monotonous work, but you don't want to stop.

 

How did the Iron Bull not develop a severe pheumonia or die from hypothermia?

 

_Game mechanics._

 

Which there is a noticeable lack of right now, you snort, glad to stay up here and avoid the battle raging on without your need down below.

 

_Are you going to simply stand here?_

 

You nod, trying to breathe through your nose, trying your hardest to stay warm, images of your shower back home playing like a video in front of your eyes.

 

The battle ends sooner than you can fully catch up with, and the seeker turns and locks eyes with you.

 

You instinctively know that the way her eyes narrow, and the vein on her forehead starts bulging that you're in for something when she gets up. With the ease only a veteran can conjure, the seeker deftly sheathes her weapons, and proceeds to storm up the bank, eyes darker than you've ever seen them before.

The trademark vein on her forehead is almost popping out as she comes to a screeching halt in front of you with pupils enlarged, chest heaving slightly, small beads of sweat visible on her forehead.

 

You can smell it all, her perspiration, her breath, the metal on her armour, the leather, the _anger._ You can even scent the faint sulphuric odour of the newly slain demons on her sword.

 

You take an instinctive step backwards, and instead of waiting for the shitstorm you know she's about to dump on you, you pivot on the spot and run away.

 

The seeker makes a loud, angry noise, but the speed with which you run has her having to sprint to keep up, effectively cutting off whatever remarks she might have had.

 

You keep it up, legs surprisingly sturdy yet quick even if they do not look so since you can see the muscles beneath the clothing even as loose fitted as it is.

 

 _You're afraid of_ _her._

 

**Yes.**

 

At least this brisk pace helps with the cold. In fact, as the two of you make it past the next battle scene, you are worked up enough to barely notice the cold and feeling has returned to your feet.

 

With a glare that would have razed an entire army to the ground, Cassandra charges in, smashing her shield against a demon of rage.

 

_Maybe you should join in on killing that one. It looks pretty warm and cozy._

 

You stop, taking a step backwards instead of forward, hands shaking on the hilt of your greataxe.

 

_No?_

 

The battle is over as quickly as it begun.

 

_Coward._

 

You gnaw at your lower lip, and notice that at this point the seeker is literally fuming, almost to the point of steam coming out of her ears. Her anger is so potent she reeks of it, but once more, you allow her no time to take it out on you. Without hesitance, you jog off towards your final destination.

 

_That's all you seem to do. Run away._

 

**Shut up already!**

 

You know the place you'll meet with Solas and Varric at heart, even moreso now that you've even met them once in person. And, for some reason, the prospect of facing the Elvhen rebel king turned apostate hobo, doesn't fill you with dread this time.

 

_Cassandra fills you with enough of it to last a lifetime._

 

**Yes.**

 

As the pair of you rush closer to the stairs prior to meeting your future companions, your stomach starts clenching uncomfortably.

 

_Something crawls up your arm, body tingling with whatever energy is filling you up. You’re light as a feather and the tingling almost feels like it’s alive, moving on its own._

 

You stop for a moment, all limbs tingling with remembrance of the phantom sensations of you and Solas' connected on a level you can't even begin to explain. It was more than a simple connection, it was... A recognition, a feeling of familiarity of being... home.

 

_You're not making any sense._

 

Like the flipping of a switch, a flock of butterflies invades your stomach, tingling all the way to your fingertips.

 

_Oh no, no no no no no, don't you dare to.._

 

“We are getting close to the rift! You can hear the fighting.” Cassandra spits out then, effectively cutting off your inner monologue.

 

With nothing but a nod, the pair of you rush down into the valley in a flurry of snow, and this time, you are determined to join the fray.

 

Adrenaline floods your every limb as if sensing your resolve, and so you charge a despair demon with a mighty swing of your greataxe. The world seemingly slows down as the weapon connects and cleaves the nightmare creature in two. With an explosion of green, the essence of the fade demon draws back to the glowing rift behind you. This entire place reeks of sulphur and something spicy, you note and one particular stench, overpowering the rest, is closing in on you...

 

_To your left!_

 

The edge of your vision is growing darker, turning _red_ , _hazy_ , and you instantly turn, swinging the weapon in a wide arc around yourself. The weapon connects with something, but it feels more like it cuts through butter rather than demon hide. The creature you hit shrieks, claws on its midsection, before dissolving in an eruption of green flakes.

 

That's when you spot _him._

 

The anchor crackles slighty, and your grip on the axe tightens, nostrils flaring as the scent of _him_ reaches your nose.

 

_**Solas!** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not Beta'd :( I sincerely miss my epic BETA RikaDivani, but I'm praying her internet issues will solve themselves soon <3


	22. ... into the fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, my dear readers, the lack of response on the last two chapters was somewhat discouraging. A comment goes a long way motivation-wise for my muse and I <3 Don't be afraid to speak up, I always listen and will reply as fast as I can. I respond to critique as well, as long as it's constructive. 
> 
> Were my last chapters unsatisfactory? Too short/long? Lots of errors? Boring? Out of character? Let me know so I can improve <3 
> 
> Still no BETA, and I must've edited and revised this chapter at least dozen times before it ended up the way I wanted it to. Hope I don't disappoint <3 <3

 

He hasn't noticed you yet, and it seems the old Elvhen is all grace, movements enviably fluid and light while you feel more like a drunk octopus that is the love child of the local hippo.

 

The apostate hobo looks like a _god_ to you the way he maneuvers throguh the battlefield, each strike lethal and precise. He makes flinging ice with a _wooden staff,_ almost everywhere at the same time, look ridiculously _easy_.

 

You can't help as your jaw goes slack from staring at the surreal way he seemingly dances from one place to another, back impossibly straight, legs bending just so as he twirls on the spot, freezing another hell spawn, no energy spent where it is not needed.

 

Then it strikes you.

 

 _Solas is_ _beautiful_.

 

You never thought that was a word you'd use to describe another person, character in a video game even less so, and a man to boot.

 

You feel a pang of jealousy arise from the bottom of your heart as you watch the elf that is all corded muscle, fluidity and deadly strikes. Meanwhile, _you_ are still trying to figure out what the hell you're _doing right now_ and fighting the urge to find a safe spot and hide there for the rest of the battle.

 

_Behind you!_

 

No more time to think, a sulphuric stench permeats the air just as you follow your instincts by jumping to the side.

 

_Use your god damn weapon!_

 

Hesitant and hands sweating, the attacker decides for you. With an otherwordly growl the creature charges in a flurry of limbs, claws and speed you feel is definitely not fitted for one at your... level.

 

Defensively raising your axe like a hammer above your head, you swallow and then bring the weapon downwards with all your might.

 

_Precision and grace is overrated, anyway._

 

You snort at that, and more or less hammer and slash away at the fade denizen, making sure to keep swinging wildly like a madman, until the monster retreats.

 

_Why didn't that kill it?_

 

Longs snake-looking flaps on its head bobs in rhytm to its movements as it seemingly slithers backwards, the angular, emaciated face displaying a sharp-toothed grin.

 

 _What in god's name kind of demon_ is _that?!_

 

You can't seem to remember any sort resembling it at the moment. Your mind is in a state of chaos, thoughts too fast, too fleeting to make sense like sand slipping through an open palm.

 

With a come hither movement, the fade denizen opens its mouth more widely, a dark, menacing sound making it past its bony looking throat.

 

You raise your axe defensively, hands shaking, legs vibrating, mouth dry and scratchy, _constricted_. Your vision narrows until there is nothing else but you, and the monster in the world.

 

_Breathe!_

 

Once again, you have no time to think as a familiar looking bolt suddenly pierces its left shoulder, the projectile opening a wound that seems to ooze some sort of sickly green goo. There is no odour that follows, but the air has noticeably started to reek even worse of sulphur and some other smell you have no name for. 

 

_Shouldn't Varric's attack have killed it?! What in god's name is that thing!_

 

The spindly demon sways, then straightens, face devoid of eyes looking at the bolt protruding from its shoulder. With a smile and a growl, it wraps its long, bony fingers around the front, then simply _janks_ it out. 

 

A surge of nausea follows as you remain frozen on the spot, eyes unable to stop staring at the creature that seems to be studying the bolt, that green goop dripping of its dripping from the shaft. 

 

With a dark, menacing noise the monster opens its mouth, a forked tongue slipping past a canine looking row of teeth.

 

The air feels thicker somehow, it is becoming increasingly hard to take deep breaths as you watch its tongue curl around the missile's front.

 

_BREATHE!_

 

With a choked noise at the back of its throat, it slowly slides the tongue along the dart, ooze following, before abruptly stopping, throwing the projectile to the ground. The bolt bounces slightly on a rock from the force of the throw and you cringe from how loud the sound is in the silence.

 

The living nightmare proceeds to raise its hand and also lick it clean, snake-like appendage seemingly dabbing each finger with care.

 

_Oh god, oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god_

 

At this point you come to the realisation that you're convulsing, panting, heart thudding, racing, lungs constricting, and though you want nothing but to bolt, to escape, to run and never look back, _Thedas be damned,_  it's like someone's pinning you to the spot. 

 

_You're frozen._

 

You struggle to stay sane, to not wail and shout for help, scream for Solas, Varric, Cassandra, or  _god,_ to come save you. Despite your best, a small, choked out noise of fright makes it past your lush lips and with that, you suddenly notice there is something warm trickling down at the inside of your thighs that reeks of ammonia, but you refuse to acknowledge what that means. 

 

_Move already!_

 

What sounds like a dark, amused laughter all of a sudden turns into a hiss as it charges forward, spindly limbs zoning in and out of existance, claws elongated and _ready_.

 

Something clicks inside your mind then, and you barely manage to avoid being sliced to shreds or torn in two, all senses on high alert as you jump to your feet, world protesting by giving you vertigo from the sudden movements.

 

The creature lets out a ear piercing shriek as you clumsily wobble to the side, avoiding an attack, ears ringing from the force of it. With a growl, the demon renews its attacks. YOu, once more, defensively raise your axe and somehow miraculoudly manage to duck or jump to the side at the last second, constantly using your weapon as a shield. Somewhere at the back of your mind, you you notice that the demon seems to focus on making you go backwards.  

 

_You're being forced to the rift._

 

**Why?**

 

Swallowing hard, you try focus past the fear, and the ringing in your ears, trying to ignore the way you can literally _feel_ the buzz emanating from the rift, a sensation that tingles all the way inside your _bones._

 

_JUST KILL IT!_

 

**How?**

 

The creature suddenly booms a laughter as you raise the axe once more, arms shaking uncontrollably, slippery hands trying to keep the grip firm. The snow crunches beneath your weight as you take yet another step towards the rift.

 

_What are you doing!_

 

Your body, despite being pumped to the maximum with adrenaline can't seem to make a hit on the long, spindly demon, no matter how much you swing your weapon about.

 

_**Solas! Cassandra! Anyone!** _

 

" _No use in crying for help,_ **laim' sa***"** The demon chuckles, and your thoughts come to an abrupt halt at that.

 

_You'll be standing beneath the rift any second now._

 

**Oh god.**

 

You feel the tingling from the rift intensify, the anchor is beginning to respond, small ants making nests just beneath the skin. 

 

_This world state must have defected beyond measure for you to end up in a bossfight this early on in the game._

 

As the towering nightmare swipes at your face, you trip over your own feet, falling backwards in an ungraceful heap of limbs.

 

The snow is cold against your skin, but nothing can compare to the surge of fear that follows as the monster lets out a loud, booming chuckle, then bends forward at the waist. A drop of luke warm green goo lands on your throat as it leans over your sprawled form. You shudder from the sensation, it makes you feel... sullied.

 

_Soiled._

 

“ _Don't forget little otherwordler, you are_ _ **worthless**_ _here”_ the demon whispers, its mouth too close to your right ear. 

 

Your eyes go round as its tongue slithers out between those canine fangs, forked tongue faintly touching the left shell of your right ear. With a burst of noradrenaline, you roll around and then scramble backwards, picking up your weapon, holding it up in front of you like a shield.

 

The monster chuckles, a twisted, warped sound. With a lick of its non existent lips, it proceeds to conjure some sort of green ball just above its right hand. 

 

Pure instinctive fear floods your entire being then, mind stuck in a litany of 'danger, RUN!', noradrenaline coarsing through your system, every limb filled to the brim with the sole will to _flee._

 

_**RUN!** _

 

_You and the nightmare creatures are all that exist in that moment. The next second an uminaginable amount of pain explodes from your midsection, and the flow of time sputters right back to life._

_You let out a hollering as the claws literally rips away chunks of flesh, the creature's attacks unrelenting against your vulnerable mid section. New blood mixes with the old, splashes the ground-- so much red it's your whole world. White and red-_

 

_Red, red, red, red red red red red red_

 

You come back with a scream that tears itself from the back of your throat, as the first thing you see is the creature as it towers over you, shadow completely engulfing even your Qunari form, green ball of energy having grown to surrealistic proportions.

 

You get up, and you  _bolt._

 

There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The massive culmination of fade energy tingles across your entire being, the purr of the veil permeats everything, it's all gathered, it's _all_ there.

 

_**DUCK!** _

 

Just as the monstrosity releases the energy ball, another bolt interrupts the silence, lodging itself straight between the spot where its eyes should've been. With an ear shattering boom that has the air vibrating from the force of it, the loose energy hurtles towards you with the speed of a raging tornado.

 

**MOVE! MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE!**

 

Before you have a chance to conciously react, the mark on your hand does. With an ever growing sense of _sentient will,_ your mind blanks, leaving way to a tingling sensation that crawls along each vein on your left arm, a slice of life that breathes just beneath the skin.

 

Your hand rise.

 

_There is no time left._

 

Suddenly, the anchor lights up like a christmas tree and _spits_ out some sort of even more blinding light,m long tendrils of green that seems to envelop the entirity of your world, thid place, spreading, growing,  _writhing._

 

Everything, even the very air seems to warp around you, the surroundings turn hazy, blurred, distorted,  _green._

 

You can do nothing but avert your eyes from the blinding light as this place, the very dimension of existance, the images that makes the space and time you currently inhabit warps like a broken carousel, round round, and round until nothing looks like anything resembling reality, a fragmented mirror, nothing but darkness at the edges.

 

It has all gone silent now.

 

Then everything implodes on itself and  _shatters._

 

_**And so you fall.** _

 

_Down, down, down, down,down, down, down, down..._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Laim' sa = little one


	23. Destination unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because there was this huge explosion of comments on last chapter, my muse went totally bonkers and typed out this update in record time! 
> 
> Enjoy this little treat, and I hope it'll wet your appetite... 
> 
> Comments and feedback is, as usual, wonderful, lovely, appreciated and awesome!! <3 <3
> 
> Still no BETA :( :( :(

 

 

You feel a trickle of warmth coming from your left ear as you come to. Everything is aching, your skin feels too tight, constricting, _wrong._

 

At least there is no pain from the anchor, which has to mean the game hasn't restarted... right?

 

Opening your eyes which seem to pound from within for some reason, you see a world steeped in all shades of grey, darkness just at the edge of your vision.

 

_What the..?_

 

You rub your eyes, stifling a groan at the faint pain the touch causes, and look again. The world is still hazy, distorted, and you feel so very... _wrong._ You don't hear any noises whatsoever, _everything_ is eerily silent. Not to mention, there is no hint of a smell that would confirm where you are, or if your companions are nearby.

 

 _That is so utterly_ wrong.

 

Closing your eyes since your vision doesn't help to locate where you are, you take a moment to breathe calmly through your nose, trying to sort it all out.

 

You remember battling a perverted boss demon, a boss that wasn't supposed to appear so early in the game, then you... what? You focus on the end of that memory but... nothing. The rest is blank. 

 

 _Things are beginning to make less and less sense.._  

 

You agree, then take a deep breath and focus on reaching out, touching the ground, wondering if you somehow, for some ungodly reason, have been catapulted to the beginning of the game again.

 

_No... it doesn't smell of Cassandra, and the ground is too uneven and dry, for it to be the cells back at Haven._

 

You nod at that, hands suddenly travling down your body on impulse, feeling yourself and groaning when your palms touch a flat chest that is still half exposed, along with some sort of pants.

 

Still a man then, most likely the Qunari. 

 

_Not to mention you're not bound, so... not the beginning then._

 

Sighing, you open your eyes again, then scrunch your nose at the fact that there is no smell in this place.. whererever 'this place' is. Every place has to have a myriad of smells, right?

 

 _It is so wrong!_  

 

As you try to get up from the ground, ignoring the way your skin still seems too tight, a surge of dizziness takes over. With a groan, your limbs turn into jelly and you topple over. You land unceremoniously on your back, wondering why the hell your vision remains hazy and unfocused. The only thing you can be sure of for the moment, is that the ground is hard... cool, but not cold, and uneven. 

 

_Not outside then._

 

You grit your teeth, and put an arm over your face.

 

_Wonder how much you've broken the game at this point considering the fact that you are somewhere unfamiliar this time around._

 

The real world, your home, and Thedas, had some sort of smell at least, this place... does not, and it _bothers_ you.

 

“H-hello?” You croak as you remove the arm, voice full of gravel, cats scratching on a window sill.

 

You touch your throat, and realise that it was indeed a long time ago you drank anything, and that it feels... itchy, raw, a bit swollen.

 

_Just like all those times you restarted._

 

Though this time it seems the game didn't, considering the state you're in and every other little disturbing detail.

 

With a huff, you sit up and lick your lips, realising you are _very_ thirsty.

 

_Where in god's name is this place, and why is everything so... warped?_

 

Blinking, and rubbing your eyes again on reflex, you look around, try to make sense of this world seemingly shaped by fifty shades of grey.

 

_No pun intended._

 

Snorting, you slowly move to stand up. This time you don't take any chances, allowing each limb to take the time needed to get used to the notion of standing up, each protesting muscle allowed their time to adapt.

With another huff you cross your arms, and squint your eyes. You still feel utterly wrong, and the feeling doesn't seem to leave.

 

_At least you are alive._

 

Well, what are you supposed to do even if you are? This place looks like some sort of bad dream, even if it is too real to be a dream. You seem to be alone, so not like you can ask anyone for help or directions etiher.

 

Moving forward with hestitant steps, you begin to slowly make way towards what looks like something solid among this endless sea of blurry shapes that has  _no_ scent.

 

You shudder at that, eyes focusing on the one large shape that seems to tower above all else, that seems more _real_ and solid, than everything else in this eerie place.

 

Suddenly something that exudes light moves past you, though whatever it is, it is too quick for you to spot what it could be.

 

“Hello?” You try, throat aching in protest.

 

_You must've imagined it._

 

Huh, is your intelligent reply as you speed up towards what appears to be some sort of construct up ahead. Though it is just as grey as the rest of your world, it is the only thing that doesn't seem to swirl or move. 

 

_Real._

 

**Yes.**

 

Managing to not trip over yourself, you soon arrive at what looks like the shape of a hazy building of some sort, and it is so large you literally can not see the roof of it. You look up, but no matter how you try, the building disappears up there in another hazy outline of grey and some black.

 

_This place... what if it's not real after all?_

 

You walk up what seems to be stairs and refuse to ponder that, coming to a halt in front of what appears to be some sort of door. With clenched jaws, you reach out, hands beginning to sweat as they come in contact with something solid.

 

 _A very vivid dream then since that surface is both cool and rough, because it feels_ very _real._

 

You trace the outline of what you deduct has to be a door, though to your disappointment, the door doesn't seem to have a handle.

 

Taking a deep breath, steadying yourself, you ball your right hand into a fist and knock on the door.

 

“Hello? Anyone there?” You try to swallow more spit to croak less, but it rather feels like trying to swallow sand instead of liquid.

 

Coughing a bit, you start to use more force, banging on the door instead.

 

“Hello!?”

 

Before you have any time to conciously react, you are suddenly knocked back by some sort of unknown force. Body tumbling through the air like nothing but a ragdoll, you end up smacking onto the hard ground with a loud 'thud'. Pain explodes from the back of your skull and back, the air knocked out right of your lungs. Gaping like a fish on dry land, you move your hands towards your chest, tears bursting out of your eyes.

 

_You try to breathe through your nose to help your burning lungs get more air, but it’s becoming increasingly hard to force down any sort of air and your nose bubbles each time you exhale._

 

The memory disorients you for a moment, and so you sit up, keeled over, fighting to breathe, fighting against the onslaught of panic the memories bring. Just as blessed air starts to come back to your lungs you look up and freeze.

 

 _Nothing ever seems to go your way since your arrival in Thedas._  

 

You agree.

 

_If this is Thedas, that is._

 

Must be, you remain a man. You're not a man for  _real._

 

_Reality has been up for debate lately, hasn't it?_

 

The world snaps back as you suddenly realise that there is an uneven shape moving in front of you. You inhale sharply, heart instantly racing, limbs twitching from the adrenaline exploding into them.

 

 _If this is the fade... then that might be a demon!_  

 

Everything is still oddly blurred out, so you can not make out what the shape is, but that makes little difference to you. So far, everything has been out for your blood and wanted to murder, choke, slice you into tiny pieces or tear you apart.

 

With a startle, you realise that whatever _it_ is, 'it' is multiplying.

 

You scramble backwards, back and head protesting, a groan of pain released from the back of your throat.

 

The shapes follow, the shadows starting to circle your form, suddenly letting out a chorus of whispers, syllables and consonants put together into strings of pure _gibberish_.

 

Your breath hitch as you listen to the entities drawing closer, body instinctively curling in on itself.

 

_Oh god, oh god oh god oh god!_

 

Ignoring the way your head and back throbs, you force each limb to respond, pivoting to your feet, stomach clenching in protest from the vertigo that follows.

 

_RUN!_

 

Just as as your feet and legs get ready to bolt, something cool and very hard lodges itself around your left wrist. It gives you no time to react as it turns your entire body around with brute strength.

 

You stumble, staring with round eyes and an opened mouth at the large, too tall shape, a humanoid shadow that apparenly is strong enough to jerk you around like you were as light as a feather.

 

_You let out a hollering as the claws literally rips away chunks of flesh, the creature's attacks unrelenting against your vulnerable mid section. New blood mixes with the old, splashes the ground-- so much red it's your whole world. White and red-_

__Red, red, red, red red red red red red_ _

 

**Oh god!**

 

Mind and body in state of panic, you struggle against the grip, trying to pry away what feels like sort of armoured hand, but the appendage is so big and though so very slender, the brute strength it wields makes it even more  _unnatural._

 

_Deadly._

 

Whatever demon or creature or entitity it is, it is apparent it wants you harm.

 

_RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN_

 

Just as you think your heart is going to burst right out of your chest, the unknown entitiy lifts you into the air, the blurry shadows around it zoning seemingly in and out of existance, some of them briefly touching your horns and parts on your body.

 

You begin to plead for it to let you go, hiccuping and sniffling, uncaring about the fact that snot is trailing down your face along with an unending stream of tears.

 

 _Oh god, there are so many and oh god, the tall one is_ shaking _you!_

 

Like a fish on a hook, you frantically struggle, but the grip doesn't lessen. If anything, it tightens, something sharp starting to tear into the skin around the wrist.

 

It makes you cry out in pure unadulterad _fear,_  makes you kick out, scream manically, claw at the hand holding you in the air.

 

The socket in your arm creaks from your desperate fighting, sending a burst of fire down your arm as you thrash about, even try to bite whatever it is holding you. Frenetically you call for Solas to come, over and over again.

 

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god!_

 

“SOLAS!!”

 

**HELP!**

 

As on cue, the shadows multiply once more, and the next instant the back of your head disconnects your entire being with a burst of sharp, cutting, slicing _agony_...

 

Everything vanishes.

 


	24. And so it all begins anew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After editing this chapter about a MILLION times (>.<), it's my turn to spit out; FUCK IT, I'll just leave it here! I'm not used to writing these kinds of scenes so.. yeah, but I promise I did my best! 
> 
> I always try to improve my writing but.. I need my BETA back :( :( :( :( :(
> 
> WARNINGS: Disturbing behaviour, disturbing settings! Might be triggering for some! ALSO: AU AU AU AU AU AU!!!
> 
> As a sidenote, the dialogue written in ITALICS+BOLD, is spoken in another language - a language our protagonist doesn't understand. (I couldn't make AO3 accept me changing the font so...)

 

When you come to, it is to the distant sensation of cool, hard, flat ground against the back and a foreign sensation around your throat. With a gasp, your hands instinctively twitch, not able to move beyond that small movement. The back of head throbs, but right now, you couldn't care any less.

 

_This can't be happening._

  ~~~~

You're back at the beginning... again?!

 

Blinking to clear the haze from your eyes, your peer out into what looks like darkness dimly lit up with an eerie glow from... below? Breath hitching at the back of your throat, the next thing you deduct is that you are, in fact, behind bars. You can see the faint outlines of them quite literally right in front of your face.

 

 _Oh no, how much did you butterfly the game for_ this _to happen!?_

 

Tears spring to your eyes as you struggle, testing whatever it is restricting your hands, only to realise that whatever _it_ is, you can't feel the surface of it against your wristis, _it_ has no smell, but _it_ still prevents all movement.

 

Your hearts starts racing as you ponder all possibilites.

 

_You... can't possibly still be in the fade, can you?_

 

You shake your head at that. No, it is more likely that you're back at the beginning.

 

Biting the full lower lip, you put more effort into trying to move, to wiggle to the best of your ability, but even small movement is impossible. You're firmly bound with something without a scent, against... something cool, flat and hard in a dark room with an eerie glow coming from beneath... where ever you are.

 

Shuddering, you blink back the tears.

 

_Seems Thedas is really into binding and torturing its inhabitants._

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

You open your mouth, and find that you're not parched any longer. Swallowing, you try to move the rest of your body... which is still futile.

 

_Inhale._

 

Cassandra is going to be arriving soon, right?

 

_Exhale._

 

You keep gnawing on your lower lip until a coppery taste spreads in your mouth.

 

_Just breathe._

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

If someone had asked you a few... weeks? Ago, if you wanted some reprieve, some time alone to think, to ponder the events that have happened, you would've jumped at the opportunity. Come to think of it, you had everything planned out, right? Get to Haven, stay inside your cabin and preferably find a way to make Cassandra the inqusitior and then get back home.

 

_Nothing ever turns out the way you plan. You should know that by now._

 

Swallowing and before your mind can start repeating those bad memories, you start imagining songs you enjoyed back home, back in real life.

 

 _So you wanna play with magic_  
_Boy, you should know whatcha falling for_  
_Baby do you dare to do this_  
_Cause I’m coming atcha like a dark horse_  
_Are you ready for, ready for_  
_A perfect storm, perfect storm_  
_Cause once you’re mine, once you’re mine_  
_There’s no going back_

 

You shudder.

 

How eerily fitting that your mind should come up with that particular song. You shake your head at your mind's ability to recall a song from an artist such as Katy Perry. 'Dark horse' keeps playing on repeat in your mind for a long, immeasurable time.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

Silence stretches on until all you can hear are your own breaths and heartbeats. You feel like your bladder will burst any second, yet you don't know where the toilet or.. whatever you can use is, and you can't see or smell anything so you don't know how to find it.

 

_Maybe if you scream, you'll wake up from this nightmare._

 

**If this is a dream, yes.**

 

_Perhaps you're still in the fade? You were captured by demons, weren't you?_

 

You highly doubt it, but start moving about, realising instantly that you can move again and that you're in a _very_ small cell, you have to stand hunched to not bump your horns in the roof.

 

You try to figure out where you are by touch, but everything is equally dark and gives you no clues whatsoever. The silence is starting to grate on every sense, and you need to pee _so_ badly, you are seriously considering just … edging as far to the right as you can and squat right there.

 

_No! Christ almighty, that's nasty! Keep it in!_

 

There has to be a rational way to escape this.. prison, or whatever it is, right? The fade is shaped by intent, Solas once said, right?

 

 **Right.**  

 

You close your eyes and imagine waking up, imagine this confinement being much larger, along with a toilet next to you.

 

...........

 

_Nothing happens._

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

Maybe you're back at the beginning of the game? Because god dammit, you can't hold it in any longer. You've begun to shake from the effort to keep it in, and try to focus on anything else, anything to keep it at bay just a little while longer.

 

_If you're really back at the beginning, and not in the fade, then how do you explain that the dungeon beneath Haven is this eerily silent?_

 

You have no answer to that. Perhaps that change stands to prove just how _much_ yourchoices have rippled this gameworld already.

 

_This is just like that time your aunt..._

 

Furiously shaking your head to dispel that particular train of thought, you start squirming for real, wishing to the point of desperation that Cassandra arrives already or that _something_ happens. You'll take her menacing form and glaring and even Solas' scrutiny, any day over this utter... isolation in pure silence.

 

You've not been claustrophobic for many years, and never felt afraid of being on your own in your adult years, but even that is beginning to be up for debate.

 

_Think about it rationally._

 

Yes, this is either the beginning, the prologue and you're merely waiting for the game to start or it is the fade, and seeing how you have Solas' god damn magic imprinted on your hand, he should be prone to seek you out sooner rather than later.

 

_Breathe._

 

You gnaw on your lower lip, curl into a ball and stare into the nothingness you're surrounded by.

 

_Just hold on._

 

 **Okay** , you agree before closing your eyes.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

This time as you wake up, your head feels.. full, heavy, murky, _unreal._ You are in a world of odd, alien looking shapes and structures, a dark place filled with equally dark shadows. Some of them seemingly flits in and out of existance.

 

Are you... walking?

 

You can't truly tell, your limbs are far away, detached, heavy, your heart is beating and lungs expanding, but they just exist.

 

Either way, you are most definitely _moving_. Bare feet are slowly padding across an uneven surface, equally dark, but there is no sensation beneath the soles of your feet.

 

_One foot in front of the other. Repeat._

 

Each step makes a light noise. Your arms hang slack along your side, nothing but a limp pieces of flesh, appendages without any use.

 

There is another sound coming from your left side, another set of steps right next to you. The steps are followed by a rustling sort of noise.

 

You're watching the world from behind the looking glass, drifting, a piece of existance riding on the endless waves of the sea.

 

_One foot in front of the other. Repeat._

 

Soon enough, the darkness gives way to the glow that could be seen from below your cell. Slowly blinking eyes take in a dark red, almost scarlet, light slowly edging ever closer. The vermillion is a stark contrast to this world steeped in a blur of black and dull grey.

 

Your mind detachedly deducts that you've been led to some sort of watery looking door, and the glow of red seems to glow from beyond its murky surface.

 

Something rustles loudly to your left, followed by an equally dark hand moving in your far peripeal vision. The hand makes some sort of movement, then the air seems thick for the fraction of a section. There is a tingling sensation along your arm, then the 'door' seems to turn into some sort of open space. The hand retracts and as on cue, you move into whatever place that lies beyond it.

 

_One foot in front of the other. Repeat._

 

The place your eyes is met with is round, some sort of pattern on a tiled ground, and there are various structures that are completely alien to you. The re-occurring factor seems to be some sort of round tube-like pods of some sort, with bubbles inside of its murky waters along with dark, incncernable movements inside. The red glow seems to come from the far left corner of this round space.

 

You are led to the right side of the room, all the way to some sort of contraption. It looks like a mix between a table and a chair with alien looking writings all over the flat surface with undesipherable patterns along what looks like armrests.

 

The two of you come to a halt at the left side of it. With deft movements, you are moved onto the contraption, put down like one would put a child to bed.

 

With a blank stare, you watch as the writings on the contraption starts lightening up and the room is bathed in a dark, almost blue, light, mixing with the red glow from the other side.

 

Suddenly there is a puff of dark smoke in the middle of the room, and out of it steps a very tall, exquisitely clothed, humanly shaped person.

 

Your left hand twitch for the fraction of a section in reaction to the heavy tingling sensation your skin is doused in, but there is no other reaction as the man slowly starts moving towards your still form. The heavy looking silken robes swish as the entity nears, each step silent and slow. There are a myriad of patterns adorning the dark robes, all woven intricately into the cloth in pure silver.

 

As the humanoid walks into a more lighted area you see that there are no pupils, no schlera, where there should be eyes. It is like staring into oblivion, eyes nothing but a seething, writhing void.

 

The entirety of the humanoid's mouth is covered, and its head is hidden by a hood. Everything else is covered with a thick layer of dark cloth that ripples with silver and dark colours each time the being moves. Two long pieces of cloth with dense silver patterns, hangs down from each side of the being's face. There are two sharpely shaped cheekbones, protruding just above the covered area. The nose is as sharpely shaped as the rest of what is revealed of the face. There is an oddly familiar pattern adorning the entity's face, tugging on a memory.

 

The thought, however, slips away, sand through an open palm, as the being suddenly starts producing a string of melodious sounds.

 

“ _ **So.. this is the new specimen**?_ ” an androgynous, though somewhat male voice asks in a string of unintellible words.

 

There is another voice that appears behind the unknown humanoid, but you can't discern the owner of it in this dim light, even with the light emanating from the writing at your back.

 

“ ** _Yes, my lord_** ” A definite male voice answers.

 

“ ** _There has been a success?_** ” the darkness inside the entity's eyes seems to writhe less then, narrowing, as the being takes a step closer to you.

 

“ ** _T-this one_ _does not know who made the breakthrough, my lord, but the sentinels brought it here the other day. It has been collared and kept confined, as per your will, my lord._** ” The voice from behind speaks, incomprehensible words spoken at a jumbling pace, stuttering at the beginning.

 

The tall individual turns from you, silken robes swishing as they do. You glimpse what looks like the shape of what seems like an elf, long ears protruding from a shaved head, a metallic looking collar covering all of the person's throat, but you can't see much else.

 

“ ** _Everything else on schedule_** _ **?** ” _The unknown being speaks then, voice bordering on a drawl.

 

“ ** _Yes, my lord_** _ **.** ” _the elf quickly answers with a somewhat more confident tone of voice.

 

The heavily veiled person nods, and the two of them starts strolling in a leisurely pace towards the middle of the room, and the elven man scurries to walk behind the dark eyed one, displaying a perfect view of his backside. 

 

All of a sudden, he stops, a pair of heavily tatooed hands fidgeting with the hem of a rough spun tunic with a cracked leather belt around the waist. You note that the man's wearing pair of dirty, worn looking breeches that looks more stitched together than actually sewn properly, along with a pair of old looking leather wrappings which ends just below the knees.

 

“ ** _My lord, please forgive this lowly slave for taking the initiative to speak but there are.. complications, with the specimen_** _ **.** ”_

 

The robed individual spins so fast on the spot after that long string of gibberish that the movement is all but a blur. You notice those dark, swirling eyes narrow down to a slit.

 

“ ** _What_** _ **?**!”_ They boom, the sound somehow creating a ripple in the air that is so tangible, it literally feels like a living, breathing thing.

 

The elf instantly procastricates himself, falling forward to his knees in a deep bow, forehead almost touching the ground.

 

“ ** _Please forgive this lowly slave for being the bearer of ill news but... it_** _ **...** ”_

 

The back of the elf's head is perspiring and his hands twitch on the floor.

 

With an unearthly sound, the robed one lashes out and the elf shrieks as he's pulled to his feet, and then catapulted by an unseen force, to the humanoid's left gloved hand. A pair of gloved, spindly fingers closes around the elf's collared throat.

 

“ ** _SPEAK_ _!_** _”_

 

“ ** _P-p-please forgive this one for the silence, oh great Chosen One, but the creature bears magic_ , _unlike any this one has ever witnessed or sensed in another_ _._** _”_ The elven man stutters in a rapid succession of unintelligble words, but makes no effort to try to pry the fingers loose or struggle.

 

The heavily clad person suddenly produces an ethereal looking whip from seemingly nowhere, three menacing looking, barbed leather tails brought high. The elf starts shaking, every muscle on his back spasming, shaved head glistening in the dimly lit room.

 

 ** _“Y_ _ou worthless piece of trash, do presume to play me, the Chosen One of our Goddess, for a fool, the creature's magic is bound by the collar and I sense nothing our of the ordinary!_** ”

 

The elf is then dropped then unceremoniously to the ground where he recieves lash after lash, body convulsing from each strike, but still not fighting back. At the end, you can hear a loud splash as a spray of red follows the three tails.

 

“ ** _Please_** _”_ the elf suddenly croaks out, _“_ ** _have mercy,_ _oh great lord, this one has but delivered the news, this lowly one can never even fathom to know the greatness of our goddess or his lordship's_ _!_** _”_

 

The dark eyes goes back to normal at that, and the person waves his hand once in a dismissive gesture.

 

The elf seemingly slumps then, coughing violently, scurrying in a crawled position to move back into a bowing position, forehead touching the floor this time.

 

The silken robed being tilts its head then, and suddenly puts a curved boot that seems crafted from pure gold along with exquisite silver patterns, on top of the man's head. The elf's head twitches once, but he makes no sounds as the sole of the beautiful boot presses downwards until the silence in the room is filled with a series of choked noises.

 

“ ** _It is by the mercy of the goddess that you_ _are spared, you piece of lowlife. You shall seek penance by licking my boots for a month, and will be relieved of all other duties until then. Make no mistake, slave, you_ will _be sorry you ever mistook the Chose One for a fool. Now, disappear from my sight before my patience runs dry!_ _”_** The person growls out, and for some reason, the voice reminds you of your father.

 

The elf nods frantically beneath the boot, the back of his hairless head turning into a deep dark shade around the edges of the boot.

 

“ ** _Y-yes my lord, thank you most humbly for sparing this one, my lord_! _”_** the muffled voice rambles and the person removes his foot.

 

The elven man instantly gets up on his feet, bows low with an unsteady movement, then scurries away, hastily making it to the door at the other end of the room. He turns at the door, and bows low, before the surface of it ripples and he heads out.

 

Silence reigns once more.

 

With a graceful movement, the robed individual turns, dark eyes once more trained on your form. As they inch ever closer, you catch a glimpse of a pair of sharp looking, protruding cheekbones. The person's skin looks light, almost sickly pale, against the darkness of the person's eyes and hood. The skin is so pale it almost seems translucent in this dimly lit room.

 

You still can not decide whether it's a he or a she. The voice sounded somewhat masculine, but there is no way to tell with them being so heavily dressed.

 

Whoever they are, they blink slowly as they circle you, murmuring nonsense as they do. A gloved hand suddenly reaches out and touches one of your horns, and the feeling sends tingles down your spine. With a detached sort of observation, you notice that the being touching you there and then trailing down your left ear, is doing things to your body... namely down below.

 

The murmurs continue until the gloved hand stop just short of where the mark is. Then they let out a loud hiss, retracting their hand so quickly, the motion is all but a blur.

 

“ ** _Seems I must leave it to my Goddess to decide what to do with you, filthy beast_** ” The heavily robed man seemingly spits out, then turns on the spot and heads to the middle of the room. The footsteps which previously were silent, pounds on the floor this time.

 

Suddenly the air seems to compress, making it thick to breathe, hard to inhale, then the being is gone in a puff of smoke.

 


	25. Many meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. I have no excuses.. well I have a few, such as hospitalization and IRL issues but.. the main reason I haven't posted is because I feel that my English is not good enough, and that I really need my BETA for this to be as great as I wish it to be. 
> 
> Anyone interested in BETA-ing these chapters until RikaDivani comes back? It'd be so so kind of you <3 I'll even let you in a bit on the plot and you do get to read the chapter a few days ahead of posting so... a good deal, no? :D :D :D 
> 
> Anyway! LET'S GET YOU ALL EXCITED because guess who we get to meet next chapter... yep, you know who!! Speaking of meetings - all of you who guess correctly who our OC meets in this chapter will get brownie points, a bear hug and LOTS AND LOTS of cake from me!! :D

The next days (weeks?) pass by in a blur. Every day it is the same routine – either you are placed in that small confined space with the eerie glow below, or you are in the room strapped to the wooden contraption, where the finely garbed person sticks needles into your arm followed by a transparent tube, forcing some sort of liquid straight into the vein on the bend of your forearms. A vague sense of _wrongness_ always follows the initial piercing of the skin, but is quickly drowned out, just like every other thought or sensation.

 

The unknown solution that pours into you is dark, almost sickly crimson, a blood red hue against your dark skin. Every time the liquid starts to flow – you think you can hear someone humming inside your mind, a melodic, beckoning song that fills you with trembling emotion. Your eyes water as you listen to the melody for hours on end, deep, unending sorrow battling for dominance inside your heart.

 

It all repeats in a seemingly endless cycle, until you completely lose track of time.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

Then one day, it all changes.

 

It starts like every other day. The overly tattooed elf comes to your dark confinement, only that this time he deftly dresses you in a dark leather harness that barely fits your broad chest, along with a pair of breeches made of some material you have no name for, but they're simultainously rough yet silky against your bulging legs. Then the elven man starts polishing your horns, and a small rush of sensation tingles through your entire being as he does. The tingling is gone the next instant as an odour so sickly sweet your lungs constricts and you cough a bit, overwhelms your nose. As you are forced to let out another cough, the man dabs a piece of cloth into some sort of just as sweetly smelling solution and proceeds to wipe your entire face with it, softly rubbing the solution onto your skin in tiny circles by your full lips. Suddenly, the elven man stops as the cloth faintly touches your dry lips. Your eyes meet, and either it's a trick of the light, or his eyes are glossy, moist, as they stare at you, looking up, then down, then back up again.

 

Blank eyes stare back, and the moment is broken when the elf draws back, shaking his head lightly, gnawing on his lower lip. With a long, heavy sigh, the elven man mutters something below his breath and extends a hand to your right cheek, a cool finger ghosting the skin there before he fully steps back. He proceeds to lift both of your arms and circling your form. With another bite of his lower lip, the elf slowly drops your left arm, anchor still surprisingly dormant.

 

With one last sigh and another shake of his bald head, the elf turns and leads you out of your prison.

 

The two of your walk in silence through the rippling surface of the strange 'doors' that seems to be commonly used where ever this place is.

 

You make it through several rippling surfaces of 'doors', new spaces emerging behind them each time before finally seeming to reach your destination. You put one foot mechanically in front of the other as you follow the bald man towaht appears to be a large open space, walls faintly lit displaying stuffed heads of all shapes and sorts, most of them nightmarish looking creatures that you have no name for.

 

Without stopping, you are quietly led to a lightly coloured dias cut from from what appears to be marble.

 

Stopping in front of the ovally shaped dias, the elf pushes you forward with his hands at the top of your shoulders. Your body readily obeys, falling to a kneeling position as if your legs were made of nothing but clay.

 

Next to you, the elf bows low, so low his forehead touches the ground.

 

Suddenly the room lights up around the pair of you, blazing torches on the walls seemingly appearing out of thin air, revealing that you are, in fact, not in a large room... but in some sort of grand hall.

 

Impossibly large pillars in strange, alien shapes stretch as far up as the eyes can see. Everything in the hall seems built of dark wood along with a stark white marble floor. Intricate golden patterns circle the pillars, carved into the wood, mixing with fine tapestry that hangs down from the ceiling. The long tapestries seem to depict epic battles with all sorts of creatures. They each depict a woman with her bow drawn, shooting a golden arrow from the top of a huge deer-like mount along with what looks like a pack of wolves running at the mount's heels. The background looks realistic enough to be  _real_ and _alive_.

 

You remain kneeled as the elf next to you starts speaking, and suddenly the almost fully covered humanoid, appears in a puff of odourless smoke.

 

The elven man presses his forehead harder against the floor, says something in their foreign language, then gestures at you.

 

The robed one makes the universal sign of dismissal, and the elf scurries to stand, bows once more, then turns and quickly walks out of your sight. You listen to the hurried footsteps as they fade behind your back.

 

The heavily clad person walks up to you with their robes swishing against the marble floor. A strong scent of some sort of flower wafts through the air as they lean forward, veiled mouth just in front of yours.

 

You meet with a pair of familiar eyes as a finely gloved hand appears from the inside of one long silken sleeve. Their hand grabs your jaw and with force moves your head to the left, then right, then left again, dark eyes skimming your face.

 

You remain as still as a statue as the person says something in a lyrical tone of voice, nods once, then stands to their full height.

 

Might have been that you have not noticed before – your thoughts remain muddled, too quick to grasp, sand inside an hourglass, but everyone you've met so far seems to be as tall as you are in this foreign place.

 

The garbed person's shadow engulf your kneeled form as they suddenly take a step backwards, posture turning rigid.

 

The same instant you exhale, the room lights up, torches all but raging in their confinements, shadows dancing on the tapestry, almost making the characters they depict come to life.

 

You blink and the next instant, the silence is broken by the sound of animalistic growls along with the sound of _pitter patter_ _pitter patter_ on the marble floor.

 

The shadows in the grand hall undulate and out of their depths a slender, yet sturdy built woman, appears. She is heavily protected by a criss crossed leather outfit, some of the straps acting like a corset to highlight her curvaceous body. Every time she gracefully takes a step towards the pair of you, two snowy white pelts that hangs draped over her shoulders bobs slightly. The pelts seem fastened by a belt that circles her hips. The belt itself contains a glowing, oddly shaped gemstone in the middle along with several skulls, all in various, odd shapes, and most of them display jagged, sharp teeth inside their bony maws.

 

The woman's clothing have a golden halo around them, and as she walks, you can see that the tip of her feet are bare. A pair of leathery looking bindings circle around her calves up to the beginning of her knees in a stark white colour, silver threads holding the fabric together.

 

The dark, glossy skinned woman saunters up to you, then, just like the finely garbed person did a moment ago, she grabs your jaw, forcing you to gaze into a pair of pitch black eyes. Their depth is unlike anything you have ever witnessed before, a maze you could lose yourself within and never find the way out of.

 

Another sense of _wrongness_ washes through you, but the feeling is gone as fast as it came.

 

Her eyes gaze at you unblinkingly, alive with a myriad of indiscernible emotions. The woman's face is very fair featured, regally high cheekbones, full lips, skin without blemishes. The other thing that stands out is the fact that the braid snaking down her front is the colour of pure snow. The ears that protrude from the white hair are sharpely pointed and long.

 

Her midnight eyes narrow as they flit over your face, and at the next exhale, she takes the glove on her right hand into her mouth, bites into the fabric, and tears it off with a jerk of her head. Her action reveals a row of sharp nails and long elegant fingers on a calloused looking hand.

 

With that, the woman cocks her head to the side, and smiles as she drags her sharp nails along your left cheekbone, leaving behind a trail of distant pain.

 

She would have been beautiful, frightfully so, had it not been for the fact that her entire being positively reeks of _wrongness._

 

With a last distantly painful stroke, she lets go of your jaw and your head hangs slightly for a moment.

 

The lights in the hall flare for a second then, and suddenly, two gigantic dogs appears at each of her sides, eyes dark with a swirl of blood red in their veiled depths. The beasts' tongues are lolled, and although their features appear relaxed, the crimson hue deep within their eyesockets follow each movement you make unblinkingly.

 

The hounds look like a mix of a large mabari and a timberwolf. A pair of long, sleek tails swish back and forth as they continue staring at you, eyes still unblinking.

 

The woman's eyes soften as she turns her head and cooes at the dogs. They close their jaws for a moment as she rests her hands on their heads. One of the hounds exhales loudly, eyes slightly drooping, though its gaze remains vigilant.

 

With one last cooing noise and a scratch behind the droopy eyed's perked ears, the woman turn her back on you and flips her braid back. It falls all the way down to her knees as she picks up the glove from the floor and puts it back on.

 

With a somewhat firm but musical tone of voice the woman suddenly speaks in a quick succession of pronounced vocals and lilting consonants. The cloaked humanoid bows low at their waist and proceed to gesture to you, reply coming out in a quick succession of rolled 'R:s'. The heavily clad one speak like that for a short while, sentences still incomprehensible, and not as lyrically flowing as the woman's, gesturing as they speak.

 

The woman breaks the person's speech with a loud, musical laugh, and the beasts' ears perk up. With a snort and another laugh, she turns back to you, her right hand shooting out so quickly, the motion is all but a blur. Slender fingers tangle in your hair as the air turns thick, hard to inhale, your mouth opening in reflex to try and force air down the lungs.

 

With a smile and glittering eyes, the woman tugs harshly on the back of your head, fingers still tangled in your hair, all but forcing you to your feet.

 

The heavily covered person makes a noise at the back of their throat, but the woman snarls in reply, the hounds joining in with a chorus of powerful growls.

 

With a loud laugh that can not be described as anything else but a cackle, the suddenly throws you away like you weigh nothing. You soar through the air and land on your back with such force, the air is knocked out of your lungs.

 

A distant sensastion of sharp pain surges through your back as you gasp for air, but it is, just like everything else, gone the next instant.

 

The woman keeps cackling, as she heads over to the fully robed one, skulls clacking against one another. The hounds trail after her, still growling, teeth bared.

 

With a string of incomprehensible but lyrical words, the woman makes an unknown gesture before disappearing in a puff of smoke, canines vanishing with her.

 

You simply lay on your back on the floor, regaining your strength, focusing on breathing properly. The garbed one gets up from his deep bow and with a wave of his hand, the elf who led you to this hall, appear.

 

The elven man's eyes are round and mouth slightly open, but he hurries to bow low as his eyes rove over your sprawled form. The heavily covered person barks out something indiscernible making the elven man bow even lower, slouching his entire posture. With a quick succession of words, the elven man scurries over to your sprawled self, sinewy arms coiling around your right arm.

 

The elf whispers something in your right ear, and with a loud exhale, helps you get up. Your legs readily obey as you are more or less softly hauled to your feet, hair in a tangled, knotted mess around your face.

 

The cloaked humanoid makes a dismissive gesture, dark eyes narrowing, before vanishing in the same fashion the canine owner just did.

 


	26. Of mythical beasts and broken things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Language. 
> 
> Ok so... you know how I promised you'd meet you-know-who here? *bows head* I am SO SO sorry! He just wouldn't appear until next chapter! I AM SO SORRY! PLEASE accept my deepest and sincerest apologies for that! 
> 
> To compensate, I've really focused on building this new alien world she's in, and the people she's with, along with a little character background and.. I hope you can be patient and learn to love this chapter as much as I loved writing it <3 
> 
> Still no BETA

 

 

 

> Time is a relative concept. Each expansion of the lungs, each heartbeat is nothing but a routine, each exhale nothing but a silent affirmation of life, of existance.

 

There is an eternity of time we do not know, can not comprehend, can not explore, can not see, can not touch. We live, we die, we wage war but in the end, we lose the fight.

 

What is time then? A matter of perspective? An abstract thought, an action, a defined moment of importance? A higher state of being?

 

What we do know is that _time_ is relative. There is no going back, one can only go forward... Or can you?

 

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 

After the strange meeting with the canine owner, you're hauled to your feet and led back to the small, dark confinement that seems to have become your lodgings for the time being. There is no sun rising here, no sky, nothing to indicate the passage of time, air stale, somewhat dank.

 

All you can do in this cramped space, is _wait..._

 

… Until there is a second breach in the daily routine. It starts as it always does, the roughly clad male elf comes to escort you through several 'doors' to leads to that eerily lit room, the one with all the unknown, alien machines making constant hissing and bubbling noises.

 

As per usual, you are strapped to that wooden contraption before the elf nods, turns and vanishes through the 'door' the two of you came from. This time, when the contraption lights itself up, instead of the familiar humainoid, an unfamiliar woman appears.

 

She, like the rest of the people here, is very tall and arrives from seemingly nowhere from within a puff of dark smoke. She is, like the being who puts needles into your arms, heavily clad, the only visible part a pair of dark green eyes behind a white veil that covers the lower part of her face. She is completely covered all the way down to her feet, all layers of cloth hanging down the slightly protruding front, veil fluttering softly as she moves.

 

Like the one who puts needles into your arms, there are deliberate patterns adorning her outfit, swirls of silver and red intricately sewn into the silken looking fabric. The garment is milky white along with a silver clasp shaped like an animal skull with antlers at the beginning ofa high V shaped neck, although there is no skin revealed beneath the cut.

 

Each step the woman takes makes loud swishing noises as she crosses the space separating you, coming to a stop at your left side. Green eyes meet yours, unblinking, pupils humanly shaped within those mossy depths. With a slight tilt of her head, the eyes roam your form, up and down, down and up, before stopping at the height of your face.

 

The air suddenly starts smelling sweet, the whisper of an emotion, a memory, a voice at the back of your head.. though all _gone_ the next second.

 

With a loud exhale, the woman makes a small gesture with her hand while speaking a few lyrical, yet still unintellible, words.

 

Suddenly, spindly, smooth vines appear out of thin air above your head. With a shuffling noise, they slither around the contraption, around your form, lightly _squeezing_ on the collar around your neck before making their way down to the chest, waist, spreading out to the arms before stopping at the legs _._ You are completely, utterly bound, pressed hard against the rough, wooden planks.

 

One snap of fingers later, and the vines has moved you into an upright position.

 

The woman begins to speak once more, then leaves, coming back the same instant your head is forcibly tugged backwards. The vines _squeeze_ at your collar again and tugs slightly at your hair, but no limb react to the manipulation.

 

One blink later, the woman conjures up some sort of crooked dagger from within the depth of her layered clothing. The sharp part of the blade shines a dark crimson in the eerie lightening of the room, as she lifts it towards your face.

 

With its descent, she starts murmuring lyrical nonsense. Blank eyes stare back, unflinching, almost unblinking, breathing calm as the sharp end of the dagger meet with vulnerable, soft skin.

 

The womans eyes dilate as the skin begins to sizzle, the dagger delicately digging into your skin, an etching beginning at the middle of your forehead. The weapon proceeds to slice downwards, across your nose stopping shy of the end of it.

 

Methodically the woman begins anew, still murmuring nonsensical words, as the dagger snakes its way down your lips all the way down to the end of your chin. Right hand steady, the garbed woman makes several carvings into the skin there before heading back to your forehead. Her dagger then once more, faintly cuts into the unmarred skin there, the blade tracing a path above your eyebrows, left to right. Up. Right to left, beginning in the middle then sliding all the way to the end of each side, stopping short of the hairline.

 

Your entire face is _burning_ , though much like everything else, the sensation vanishes as soon as it's been noted.

 

The woman tilts her head then, making a soft, crooning noise, the dagger instantly disappearing in a puff of smoke. She reaches out, palms the undamaged part of your right cheek, then once more reaches into her garments, pulling out a dark bowl made of what appears to be some sort of odd material you have no name for.

The air is instantly heavy with the smell of copper, herbs and.. a faint trace of sandalwood?

 

With another croon, she dips two of her long, slender fingers into the foreign smelling paste within. Speaking a series of nonsensical words, the woman proceeds to apply the crimson coloured paste to the wounds on your face.

 

A pressure begins to rise with each application, a torrent whirling, blazing deep within your skull, a distant voice clawing at the tides, reaching out, a strong sense of _wrongness_ filling your entire being. Your left hand twitches the instant before it all falls back into silence, blankness, _hollowness._

 

The woman does not seem to notice, leaning slightly backwards, blinking twice before applying the last of the paste, gloved fingers lingering at your lips. Green eyes stare at you unblinkingly for a few seconds, then the fingers retreat.

 

With a single movement filled with grace, the woman stands to her full, impressive height.

 

The vines surrounding your entire body linger for a moment, but with a gesture of her hand, they are gone. Your body goes limp then, everything slumping backwards. Dark, dilated pupils follows the descent and with one lyrical word, your descent is halted, head landing softly.

 

She blinks at you, then takes her bowl and turns. The air starts to feel heavy to breathe as smoke starts accumulating around her form, slowly dissolving, slowly turning darker. Then the smoke is gone, and like a gust of fresh air, the woman has vanished with it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Instead of the male elf coming to lead you back to your small confinement, an unfamiliar, lanky looking elf comes through the door. Wearing a mix of worn looking leathers that covers the front and his legs along with a somewhat dirty rough spun tunic beneath a hard looking vest, the unfamiliar elven man heads over to you with steadfast movements. Like the other one, he is bald and has intricate tatooes adorning the front of his face, the difference being that this man has a set of weapons sheathed at the belt around his slim waist.

 

He says something that sounds less lyrical than what has become the norm, and the pressure in your skull rises once more. Your limbs twitch, and the next instant the man reaches out, grabbing your right arm, brusquely hauling you to your feet. Docilely you blankly stare ahead as he moves to look you straight into the eyes, lips drawn to a tight line, shadows dancing around protruding cheekbones. His pupils dilate slightly, before turning normal as they skim over your form. The silence drags on until he snorts and proceeds to move behind you, giving you a hard shove forward. Obediently you begin walking, the elven man at your back grumbling strings of unintellible words beneath his breath with each step you take.

 

He leads you through a myriad of 'doors', and one time the door you are walking towards seems to be floating up on a platform that exists at an impossible angle. Defying the laws of gravity, the two of you make it up the winding stairs without falling off the hovering stone slabs, not stopping until you reach the impossibly placed 'door'.

The man walks ahead of you then into the door, and as you follow, the air distorts, slithers over your skin like smooth, almost non existent silk. Then just as suddenly you exit into a world of light. Your eyes are _overwhelmed_ by the searing light of two twin moons shining, glowing like a pair of luminescent orbs right in front of you.

 

There is a rush of some undiscernible feeling along with a strong, tingling sense in your left palm as you take a step towards those round, glowing orbs.Though this time, the pressure at the back of your head rises in response, and then everything goes back to being numb. Eyes reflexively blink in reaction as you notice you have found yourself on yet another platform. However, this one is by far larger than the other ones you've passed.

There are patterns seemingly made of gold carved into the even ground. Around you there is nothing but twinkling stars above, two planets visible in the sky in front and nothing but clouds visible at the edges of the platform. No walls, no ceiling, you are outside.

 

Though the stars twinkle around you, the twin moons light the place up enough to compare to morning light.

 

This particular place seems large enough to host you and a dousen elves of all genders and ages with no effort, each collared like you. Every single elf is bald and many have their faces differently tatooed. All stand in an orderly line, each staring straight ahead, not a muscle as much as twitching on any of them. The elven man pushes you forward then and you join the small crowd of elves seemingly in all ages and both genders. You tower at the same height as the men, being only slightly taller than the women.

 

Time drags on, the moons have time to move a bit to the right before a few more collared elves appear out of the left 'door'. They are orderly lined up like the rest of you.

 

Nodding towards the armed men who disappears back into the 'doors', the man who led you here, raises what appears to be a coral shell, into the air and _blows._ A shrill sound follows, growing louder before abruptly being cut off. The elven man blows the shell twice.

 

A couple of heartbeats later, the serenity is broken by the loud flapping of wings, along with birdlike screeches.

 

The clouds below part to give way to two birdlike creatures, mightily feathered wings blocking out the light of the twin moons as they slowly descend onto the right edge of the platform. Their bodies are huge, their front legs' talons long and crooked, front legs of a bird and hind legs feline. Their long claws digs into the ground, causing it to shake, winds whipped by the extensive wings forcing you to take a step backwards, legs quivering from their effort to stay upright. They settle their flappings with another high pitched screech.

 

The elven man who blew the shell seems to have no such troubles standing against the gales as he strides forward, patting each of the creatures flanks, crooning nonsense as he does. They shake their large birdlike heads, then reach back and starts grooming their feathers. The man nods slowly, then turns towards all of you. Lips growing ever tighter into a thin line, the man raises his hands and starts speaking lyrical words accompanied by movements of the hands. His eyes goes completely white, the twin moons making his eyes shine with almost a pure _white_ colour. Each of the elves slightly twitch as some sort of energy field appears, forcing you all together like someone had taken a noose and tightened it around all of you.

 

One beast looks up from his grooming and screeches, though this noise is less shrill than the previous. With another string of gestures and lyrical words, the energy field presses you all closer still, before settling into a tight confinement. The man then gestures at the beast and it lowers its massive head. The man croons, then snaps his fingers.

 

The beast chirps softly, then spreads its wings. One wing is long enough to reach half across the platform, as it whips its wings until it is airborne. With another screech, it picks up the cage made of energy and the next thing you know, you're all _flying._

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Time can be a fickle mistress. Sometimes she can make it pass in a blink, other times she can make it long, tortuous, _meaningless._

 

The flight drags on, and all of you within the cage turn colder by the minute. After a particularly cold gush of air, you soon find yourselves warmed only by your shared body heat. The flapping of wings are a a consistent beat in this otherwise cold, silent flight. Stars appear and disappear, twin moons making shadows dance on many protruding cheekbones, blank eyes along with thin, broken lips. You all move in tandem from each of the creature's wing beats as you inch ever closer to your destination.

 

Up, down, up, down.

 

Up... down.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

“ _What's with the silent treatment?” A light, yet stern voice of a woman speaks to your right, mossy green eyes staring right at you as you feel your hands tightening into fists beneath with the hem of your school uniform's skirt._

 

“ _What the fuck do you want me to say? Oh, I mean it's not like you fucking ask the same fucking questions every fucking time!” You derisively snort at your own sarcastic skills that sounds more angry than clever, “Besides, it's not like you care about what I say anyway!”_

 

_The woman, your mother, takes a step backwards, eyes flickering with an unknown emotion before crossing her long sleeved arms. Mossy eyes glitters, red hair aflame in the light from the computer screen._

 

“ _Watch that mouth of yours! And stop being so unreasonable! You know your father and I have to work to make the ends meet” She throws her arms up into the air, true Irish style before sighing, back slouching, “Honey, please, don't be so...”_

 

_A surge of emotion, and you spring to your feet, palms slaming into your computer desk, effectively cutting her off._

 

“ _MOTHER, I'm not a fucking child, I'm FINE! Everything's fucking handy dandy. Oh, and thanks for not asking, but no, I still haven't made any real friends and have no boyfriend to shag, my grades are still B going on C, and I'm still no deliquent that gets any detentions. Hm, did I cover everything?”_

 

_Your mother gnashes her teeth, freckles stark on her pale skin, face drawn tightly. She leans on her other foot, breathing through her nose. You know she is upset, but this is how it always starts... and ends._

 

“ _That's... good.” She gets out, closing her eyes, still breathing through her nose._

 

_You snort, and cross your own arms, hands balled tightly into fists._

 

“ _Good. Kudos for the interrogation,_ mother, _I have nothing to add and since I'm gonna head over to Ryan's place you'll have order your own fucking pizza”_

 

_Before your mother has the time to react, other than making a noise at the back of her throat, you stomp past her short, yet sturdy frame, slamming your room's door behind you. A sliver of cold, quiet anger wells up inside your chest drowning out any other emotion you might have felt._

 

_There is no room for pain._

 

_You ball your hands tighter until your darkly painted nails pierces the skin of your palm, harshly biting down on the lower lip._

 

_You're not going to cry._

 

_You refuse._

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 


	27. Ah Fern El, edible frog loon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAAAAAAY! Guess who finally decides to show up! *throws confetti* Also, I laughed so hard at his anagram, I fell off my chair xD

You are alerted to the fact that you have reached your destination by a loud, shrill screech answered by birdlike clicking noises. The same second, you get to experience the feeling of being completely weighless as the mighty beast flap their wings once and then _dive_. Strong torrents of air whips up at your form, everyone in the cage tumbles against one another like ragdolls. The might birdlike creatures screech again as the air whipping at your body turns frigid, the sheer drog of velocity causing everyone to tumble about, the weight of one of them ending up on top of you making it hard to breathe.

With one last, almost ear shattering sound, the creature holding the cage beats boths its enormous wings once, and gravity returns in full force. The beast keeps airborne, hovering just above the ground, strong gusts of wind whipped up by the wings causing debris to be thrown at everyone. Earthy smelling soil and dirt splashes at your face, over and over again, as you feel the creature land with a rumbling thud.

The first thing you can hear, besides the two beasts, is the crunching of leaves, light footsteps on the ground followed by a vibration, a hum in the air. Everyone inside the cage bounces against one another as the creature shakes itself free of the restrictions. With a gush of fresh air, the cage literally falls apart as it leaves the creature's mighty flanks. The pile of elves that were laying on top of you, instantly slides off, followed by series of thuds.

The beast of burden that carried you all here screeches then, once, answered by a deep clicking sound, and one by one, the elves laying about haphazardly on the ground, are pulled to their feet. Your massive body is sprawled on top of three others, one of them smelling like urine and stomach acid. The front of their bodies, pressed against your back, are cool, limbs deathly still.

Then it is your turn.

Two gloved hands reach out, takes a firm hold of your arms, and drags you off them. A pair of limbs beneath you makes a small popping noise as you unceremoniously slide off, and am, like the rest, are hauled to your feet.

The same instant you're up and about, you are able to deeply inhale crisp, fresh smelling air, along with the telltale scent of treebark, fertile soil, grass and fresh leaves. The twin moons seems to have given way to a bright glowing sun. It is currently shining down on you all with a gentle, pleasantly warm light. The grass is green, almost neon green and the sky is a bright blue.

The reverie is broken by the man who transported you here, his hooded face all of a sudden right in front of your face. His upper body is wrapped with some sort of thick looking animal fur, otherwise he looks the same as before. The two of you are roughly the same height as a steely grey gaze meets yours.

You stare blankly ahead as those eyes swiftly roam your form before he picking up both arms, surveying them before circling your body twice. The elven man ends the inspection by grabbing a firm hold of your face. Grey eyes narrow as he brusquely forces it to the left, right, backwards, and then lets go. With a nod, the man then proceeds to do the same routine with the elf standing to the right side of you.

All of you have been neatly lined up – women to the left, men to the right, beginning with the tallest and ending to the far side with the shortest.

The two birdlike beasts loom in the background, their massive wings blotting out the bright sun each time they extend one to groom.

With a blowing of that shell hanging around the elf's neck, the beasts shreech in chorus, before taking off in a gale of winds, leaving behind a faint cloud of dirt.

The elf seems to follow their flight until they're out of sight, then turns to you all. You see his eyes narrow, lips setting into a fine line as he opens his mouth, says something, and then raises his hand. The air starts to become thick to breathe, tingles of unknown origin slithering across the skin of your arms. Your left hand twitches in response as the man then seemingly draws intricate patterns in the air, closing his eyes as he does.

You keep breathing, although it is becoming harder, then suddenly a bright flash of light and... And the very air seems knocked out of your chest the same instant the entire world just... disappears.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

  
This time, when you open your eyes and blink, you realise you must have ended up in some sort of forest, a rich, green canopy covering most of the sky above your head. The next thing you notice is that you are laying on your back, and the earthy scent of the place is _overwhelming_ your nose.

 

You rise on somewhat unsteady legs, memories all jumbled, everything covered in fog and.. You bend forward, bracing yourself against a tree, merely breathing, fingers idling at the skin on your newly bare neck.

 

You blink, almost frenetically so, as everything, every single memory since you arrived in this place, suddenly rushes to the surface like a tidal wave crashing down, with a seemingly endless sea of images and foreign sensations. Overloaded, you slump against the treetrunk, hands instinctively grasping your head as you live through it all again, re-living every single event, all the way back to the moment you ended up in this strange, alien world.

 

You fight against tide crescending inside your chest, the constricting of your lungs. You scratch at your scalp, heave once, twice, your mind in complete chaos.

 

Letting go of your hair, your fingers finds purchase in the forest's soil, trying, _failing_ , to make sense of everything that has happened so far.

 

_You don't even know where you are._

 

You exhale through the nose, a small, choked noise making it past your dry lips.

 

_You've never been kidnapped, forced and treated this way before. And... all those elves.._

 

You swallow past the thick lump at the back of your throat, fingers leaving the dirt to claw at the tree, anything to distract you from your rising panic.

 

_What in god's name just happened? What is this place and why did they treat people like... like that?!_

 

Everything is jumbled, everything is chaos as you keep breathing through your nose, trying to come to an accord with the onslaught of memories.

 

You've never been this helpless pathetic, helpless, terrified, before. Choking on a string of spit at that, you grasp at the tree, every limb shaking like a leaf. Tears well out of your eyes, a frantic sound rising from the back of your throat. Unable to hold it back, the wail tears itself from the back of your throat. Legs giving out, you slump to the ground, putting your arms around yourself and rock back and forth.

 

_Where in God's name are you and how do you get back?_

 

Nothing you remember seeing during the time spent playing Dragon age origins, Dragon Age two or inquistion, reminds you of this place or gives you any sort of hint of where you are. The dark, looming trees here look like nothing you'd recognise from any of your playthroughs or anything you've read about in the Dragon Age comic books.

 

You want to go home, desperately so. Even Thedas would be preferable to this.. barbaric, uncivilised, _alien,_ place.

 

Suddenly, you are snapped out of your loud sobbing by the snapping of a branch. The sound echoes in the silence of the forest, making you reflexively hold your breath, heart pounding with the sheer emotion of _hope._ Then  _a_ nother branch snaps, and it is followed by a whirring sound that seems to close in on you and...

 

With a gasp, eyes wide as saucers, you find yourself staring at the tailfeathers of a golden arrow dug deep into the trunk of the tree. You blink, mindlessly reaching out to touch the golden tailfeathers.

 

_It's real._

 

With another gasp you watch with a mounting torrent of horror as the golden glow dies down, and the shaft begins to darken, the beauty leaving way to a gnarled looking thing, the bark of the tree blackening right along with it.

 

_A poisoned arrow? Someone's shooting at you?!_

 

Taking a step backwards, then another, you sniffle and stare at the now inky black arrowshaft protruding from the tree.

 

“This can't be happening, this isn't real, this isn't happening”

 

Then another branch snaps to your right and it is only the fact that you fall backwards in your surprise, that saves you from being pierced by the projectile that whirrs past above your head. Your heart beats furiously inside your chest as you stare, eyes wide as saucers, at the golden arrow embedded in a branch right above where you just stood.

 

_Someone or something, is hunting you._

 

You scramble to get up, and the same instant the noises of the breaking of branches seems to multiply, mixing with the sudden sound of steady _pounding_ on the ground.

 

**_RUN!_ **

 

No hesitation, you turn, adrenaline flooding every limb as you dash away from the blackened arrows and whatever or whoever it is, trying to kill you.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Your eyes dart about, trying to make sense of where you're going, but all they spot are trees, trees and more trees. Everything looks exactly the same, from the faintly glowing mushrooms spread over the place to the foliage on the ground, even the colour of the leaves, _they're all the same_.

 

Not before long, your ears pick up on the faint rippling of water nearby, but you pay no heed to the sudden dryness of your throat, the sensation that has your throat constricting in thrist.

 

You dash across the shallow river, feet splashing in the clear water as you run across with reckless abandon, soon enough leaving the lifegiving water behind to push ahead.

 

Your legs have begun to burn as you sprint with all your might until your lungs starts burning from the extorsion as well. Yet there is no stopping, you can't stop, you can _hear_ it, _them_ , still hot on your trail, still _chasing_ you. 

 

You skid across stones, duck beneath branches, wet legs jump over gnarly roots, but you can't seem to escape whatever it is pursuing you.

 

As you are forced to stop to regain your breath, the pounding in the ground grows louder, the vibrations beneath your feet ever more intense.

 

You bite down on your lower lip, brace against the searing sensation in your legs, and _keep running._

 

Suddenly, an arrow flies by inches from your right ear. A scream tears itself from your throat, a sound filled with fear and no small amount of surprise, before lodging itself in a treetrunk right up ahead.

 

_Ignore the burning, just keep running, keep running, don't stop, **don't stop**!_

 

There are voices in the distance now, even as the forest seems to grow ever more dense, but they only spur you on.

 

_Run run runrunrunrunrunrun_

 

Suddenly, the ground disappears beneath your feet. Mindlessly you flail about as your body topples forward.

 

With a screech that could rival any beast you've encountered so far, you tumble around like a ragdoll, tossed against uneven stones, bare skin scraping on all manner of debris. Your arms and legs flail uselessly about as you try to find purchase enough to stop the speedy descent.

 

Just as the thought of you dying comes to mind, everything comes to a standstill. You land with an ungraceful sound of “ugh” as the brusque landing knocks the air of out your lungs.

Coughing and spitting soil and grass out of your mouth, you find yourself looking up at a darkening sky. With a choked noise, you instinctively claw at your throat, trying to force air back into the lungs. However, no matter what you do, the lungs seem unresponsive to your frenzied fingers, apparently simply refusing to expand. It makes you thrash about like a fish out of water.

 

_You try to breathe through your nose to help your burning lungs get more air, but it’s becoming increasingly hard to force down any sort of air and your nose bubbles each time you exhale..._

 

Holy mother of god, but you need to **BREATHE!**

 

As you struggle, tears pouring out your eyes, lungs burning to the point of agony, the anchor on your left palm suddenly lights up like a disco ball, green light filling your entire vision.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

You brace against what surely must be another onslaught of the anchor's painful awakening, yet you feel no pain. The instant it dies down, and you're seizuring from the lack of air, an impossibly large shadow envelops the place, its massive form blocking out the sky, sending tingles across your palm. The sensation instensifies as the looming shadow inches closer until the palm is one giant antfarm, a maddening itch causing your right hand to flop uselessly, no energy left in there to scratch. 

 

As the shadow moves closer, a sudden rush of pure unadulterade _fear_ , jolts through your entire being, adrenaline and noradrenaline bursting out in response. It seems to completely and utterly re-start your body.

Conciousness and the ability to breathe comes crashing back like the a ship flung against a reef.

 

Instincively you pivot to your feet, altough it makes the world spin, you manage to stay upright. You pant, and despite the absolute  _agony_  in your legs, you are ready to run for your life if you have to.

 

But as your eyes find, and fixate on the looming shadow, you see no bow, no weapons at all. In fact, this black  _creature_  seemingly cloaked in writhing shadows, doesn't look like it needs any kind of weapons to be deadly.

 

It smells of .. forest, rain on a summer day and.. familiar.

 

Blinking, your widened eyes trace a path up a set of giant paws, elongated claws digging into the ground, towards a muscular looking chest where long, pitch black fur hangs down, all the way up to a majestic lion-like mane, ending at the creature's face.

 

You heart almost skids to an abrupt halt at what you find there.

 

A set of eight bloody red eyes stare unblinkingly at you from the top of a long snout, jaw shut. Long ears perk up as you make a small, choked noise.

 

_You know this creature._

 

You could recite his name in your sleep.

 

_**Fen'harel.** _


	28. Lady luck hates your guts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheeee look at me! I did A THING! :D Now we're finally gettin' somewhere, and BOY AM I EXCITED to take you there!

Intense relief courses throughout your entire being, every fibre in your body relaxing to the point where you could keel over from the sudden rush of fatigue that follows. Your mind is in a chaos, an endless mass of thoughts threatening to overpower the other, then it is all compressed and compiled into one singular thought.

 

_Solas!_

 

Your feet seemingly start moving on their own as you reach out with one hand towards your saviour.

 

“Solas!” You exclaim, the sound a mix between soul deep relief and exhaustion, that single sentence loaded with it all.

 

_Finally you're safe._

 

Zoning in on one massive leg, you run those last steps separating the two of you, nose nuzzling into pitch black fur. Tears of relief threatening to fall, you wrap your arms around the muscular yet so very soft leg, squeezing, holding on  _for dear life._

 

_Thank god. You're in Thedas after all._

 

**You're safe.**

 

You barely notice the salty smell of tears as you push your nose further into the soft, long fur and inhale... an overwhelming coppery smell?

 

_What the..._

 

A loud growl and what might have been a snarl, are the only hints you get that something's about to happen, before you're brusquely shrugged off, the massive wolf jumping back. When his haunches land, the ground shakes from the sheer weight of his enormous form.

 

You topple forward, arms finding no purchase, hands grasping at nothing but air.

 

Landing ungracefully, as seems to be your prerogative, you gaze up at the massive wolf with wide, frenetically blinking eyes. Jaw slack, eyes round, you continue staring up at Solas' giant wolf form as he blinks all of his eight eyes simultainously, snout settling into baring its massive, razor sharp looking, teeth.

 

_But..._

 

Spitting out a leaf you barely noticed got into your mouth in the first place, you can _feel_ the instant he uses his magic and your surroundings starts to blur.

 

Your heart instantly beats in anticipation, in  _fear_ of the pressure slowly building inside your left palm. You are no stranger to the pain the anchor usually brings, but it makes you no less afraid of having to face it. 

 

 _No sane person likes pain,_ you think as you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the growling shape of Solas, no, Fen'harel. 

 

If you didn't know better... you'd say  _this_ Fen'harel is acting hostile towards you.

 

_But... you're ...  you. The inquisitor. He knows you, doesn't he?_

 

The anchor suddenly flares up a bit, breaking you out of your reverie, and with that, every shade, every shape of the forest start blending together, dark  tendrils reaching out from the wolf's body, shaping,  _bending,_  your surroundings to his will. The more distorted everything becomes, the more his shadow seems to envelop the place until his massive body blots out all else.

 

Your heart jumps in a spike of  _fear_ then, as the shadow of the wolf stares down at you, all eight eyes unblinking, focused, _zoned in_ , on you. The pressure inside the palm turns to an aching, annoying itch, the anchor restless beneath the skin. 

 

You absentmindedly scratch at the palm, but your eyes never leaves Fen'harel's.

 

Then all of a sudden, the pressure intensifies, morphing into the intense pain you've gotten to expect coming with each time the breach throws a hissyfit.

 

You let out a wail, unable to hold it back, and start to clutch at your wrist, nails digging, scratching into the skin until warmth along with a strong coppery smell fills your nostrils. The pressure begins to slice its way upwards with the fury of an erupting volcano. The burning pain, the  _searing agony_ spreads, and somewhere along the line you notice that it might be you who's  _hollering,_ clutching, _clawing_ at the wrist connected to your left hand. You flail, you thrash, you  _writhe,_ until all you can see, all you can hear is a dark, familiarly accented voice inside your head.

 

“ _She is coming_ ”

 

The torment inside your hand reaches new heights as he ends the sentence with a dark foreboding tone of voice just as your back archs into an unnatural position. Everything is on fire, it burns, _it burns_  as you violently vomit to the side, the putrid stench of copper and stomach acid following.

 

You cry out for help then, a terrified, broken string of jumbled emotions, all of it boiling down to the simple begging for the agony to _**stop**. _

 

“ _I can offer nothing but the promise of freedom. Release”_ Solas says, voice dropping an octave, the words almost softly spoken.

 

Your mind frantically cling to that singular word, grasping at the straws of the word ' _release_ '.

 

Suddenly, something very much like white static crackles inside your head, drowning out all else, even the pain. Your temple throbs for a moment, then it all simply.. vanishes. 

 

As a puppet that has had its strings cut, you slump, every single limb going slack. You pant from the extortion, and not even a muscle as much as twitches as you try to move away from the foul smelling puddles of sick.

 

“ _In return, I would have your_ silence, _isenatha rodhair”_

 

Your mind can't seem to function properly, but you know him. Even if this Fen'harel growled at you but has shut his mouth now, this is _Solas._ You _know_ him and he knows the inquisitor, he is the inquistion's _ally_ , not to mention love interest if one played one's cards right. 

 

A blurred version of a black paw enters your line of vision, eight red eyes meeting yours as he lowers his giant head towards your pitiable form. You open your mouth to speak but all that comes out is a croaked out whine, the back of your throat too raw to produce anything else.

 

But then the wolf's head snaps up, fur bristling as he sniffs the air, ears suddenly flat against the thick mane around his front.

 

“ _They are almost upon us, rodhair. What will it be?”_

 

All eight eyes turn back to you.

 

 _You're safe with him,_ your mind whispers over and over again.

 

All of a sudden, the huge wolf growls and your surroundings seem to go wobbly, almost as if the forest itself is trying to revert back to its original form, back into clarity.

 

“ _You must speak the words, Andruisenatha_ ” The voice booms and your fragile mind reels from the force of it.

 

“Solas, please, I agree to whatever it is you're saying, just...” You manage to get out before coughing from the effort of speaking with a sore throat, “ just _save me from them.”_

 

The surroundings once more shift, the forest melting away, the wolf's shadow growing and growing until everything seems consumed by a writhing, _seething_ darkness that seems to eminate from the fur on his body.

 

Crimson eyes, now the size of dinner plates, burrow into yours _,_ almost as if they're peering into your very _soul._

 

Solas' welsh accented voice echoes in the silence that follows, first close, then far away, then appears right in front of your face.

 

“ _Ma nuvenin, rodhair_ _”_

 

You have no time to think as an open maw materializes, encasing your entire middle, jaws effectively locking you in place.

 

A spike of sudden terror shoots up from your subconciousness and coils in your stomach as Fen'harel's razor sharp teeth hovers inches above exposed, vulnerable skin _._

 

“ _Na din'an sahlin_ _”_

 

Not understanding, and the instant you open your mouth to ask him to translate, the wolf's eight crimson eyes simultainously blink and his enormous jaws _snaps shut._

 

A loud ** _crunch_** follows, and you're cast into oblivion.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

_You're sitting on a wooden bench, Canada goose jacket wrapped tightly around yourself. Your legs are shaking, your hands are fiddling with the hood try to and conserve as much heat as possible._

 

_The winter air is positively frigid even just to breathe despite you having the hood up on your expensive jacket. Every breath you take create a large cloud in front of your face, as you vow to yourself to put on warmer clothing tomorrow._

 

_Putting your hands in front of your mouth, you blow hot air to the best of your ability onto your thick, knitted, home-made mittens. Shaking like a leaf in a storm at this point, you glare at the empty station, almost as if your will alone could summon your ride home._

 

_Going to school and then having late night practise along with extensive after-school activities, does not always run smoothly when you live on the other side of the city. Busses are fairly frequent, but in this frigid weather? Not frequent enough._

 

 _You blow on your hands once more, but it's ineffective, and it only makes the aching in the worse. You huff, and wonder if your make-up still hold up or if there are_ _icicles on your fake eyelashes._

 

_You growl at that and pull the hood even closer around your face, cursing the bus in all languages you can think of, which admittedly aren't many, but it helps take the edge of the frustration._

 

_Your phone suddenly vibrates in your pocket, but you're too cold to bother looking at who the caller is. Probably just Mary or Ryan asking if you wanna hang out this evening._

 

 _You shake your head._ _No. You're way too tired._ _Everyone's allowed to rest sometimes, aren't they?_

 

_Once more blowing hot air onto your mittens, you swear to god, if the bus doesn't show up within a few minutes, you're seriously going to kick at the glass surrounding the bus stop until it does._

 

_The phone starts vibrating again, but you still ignore it._

 

_Ryan must be pretty desperate for your company. Could also be Mary, might have been that she's forgotten something at school. Happens pretty often. Not sure why that's your problem to solve, but it always ends up with you solving it._

 

_You snort._

 

_Lovely friends you have._

 

 _I_ _f one could even call them that. You never know with those two._

 

 _Where the hell is that god's forgotten bus anyway?! You've begun to lose all feeling in your hands, and even your toes have gone numb._ _Not to mention, that damn phone insists on vibrating like a maniac in your left pocket._

 

 _No. You're not going to waste heat answering it. Ryan or Mary would have to hold their horses until you got onto the bus._ _Shouldn't take too long, they can wait._

 

_You stare at the place where the bus always pulls over and decide to stand, pace a bit, anything to keep yourself warm._

 

_Should be here any minute now._

 

_The phone vibrates again._

 

_Seriously, what's up with those two? Somebody died?_

 

_Cursing until you're sure you'll end up grounded for the rest of your life if anyone heard the words leaving of your mouth, you fumble around a bit before finally grabbing a hold of that blasted phone._

_Tugging the mittens off with your teeth, you blink as you notice the call's from an unknown caller._

 

_A prank?_

 

_You hesitate._

 

_Might be, but then again, you're halfway to answering anyway, and you've wasted enough heat already, so might as well get it done. Could be that Mary's gotten a new phone and is calling you so you'll add her new number to your contacts. Wouldn't be the first time._

 

_Pressing the green “accept” button, you tuck the phone securely against your left ear inside the hood._

 

“ _Hello?”_

 

“ _Hello, is this miss Moore speaking?”_

 

_You hesitate once again as you don't recognise the voice. Should you give away your last name to a total stranger?_

 

“ _Y-yes it is, who's this?” You decide to reply, teeth chattering as you do._

 

_The caller goes silent for a moment, and so you blow on your hands before trying to put on the mittens without dropping or moving, the phone._

 

“ _My name is Mike O'Brian, miss, I'm the senior officer of the forensic investigations unit here at the police station in southern Dublin. We regret to inform you that we need your cooperation in identifying two victims of the recent plane crash, the dna is a match...”_

 

“V-victims _?” you interrupt, eyes going round, instinctively dropping the phone as if it was on fire._

 

_The phone falls out of the hood and lands on a pile of snow with a small plop, but you can't hear that above your own pounding heartbeats._

 

_There has to be some sort of mistake that’s happened._

 

_You pick the phone up from the pile of snow it landed in with trembling hands, hesitant to put it back to speaking and listening range._

 

_No need to panic, you tell yourself, this is all just a big mistake, you simply have to tell the officer the truth. Of course your parents aren't dead, they're simply gone on one of their buisness trips. They'll send a postcard soon enough, they always do._

 

_No need to get so worked up about it, this is clearly a mistaken identity or something of that sort._

 

 _You nod to yourself as you put the phone securely back inside the hood._ _Your parents are never gone permanently and they always return with some sort of souvenir. You just need to inform the officer of their strange, but predictable habits, and that will be the end of it._

 

_Nothing more, nothing less._

 

“ _Officer, I believe there has been some sort of mistake here...”_

 

 

 

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

 

When you come to this time, it is not to a completely unknown place that you think might be the fade, or even in the familiar dungeons beneath Haven.

 

No, the first thing you notice is that you're on your, very cold, back in some sort of snowing winter wonderland, a severe blizzard pretty much drowning out all else. The second thing you notice is that the world you've woken up in isn't just cold, it's positively  _frigid_ , and you're freezing your ass off by laying on your back in a pile of snow.

 

What in god's name.. is going on here? Where are you? Weren't you just in a forest being hunted by something or someone, transported there like cattle by mythological creatures along with loads of other elves and didn't you just meet...

 

_You have no time to think as an open maw materializes, encasing your entire middle, jaws effectively locking you in place._

 

A frigid gale that makes even the hair on your back stand up from the sheer intensity of it, snaps you out of the memory. You shudder, instantly touching all of your midsection, searching for the wounds you're sure the wolf _must_ have left there. Yet no matter how much you search, you don’t find any evidence of what occurred earlier, although you refuse to lift your .. armour? To look right now when it’s freezing and outside. You can check beneath you armour later.

 

_When you've gotten back to civilization and isn't turning into a human icicle, that is._

 

The third thing you notice, with no small amount of relief, is that you're back to being yourself, a woman, and though you can't see the colour of your skin through the gloves, you're pretty sure you're _not_ a Qunari. Everything would've smelled then, and you're pretty sure you'd look more... beefy. You touch your chest with something akin to wonder, followed by a snort. Christ almighty, but you'll  _never_ get used to this frequent body swappings!

 

Suddenly, a series of howls echoes in the distance. Startled by the sudden noise, you almost choke on your own spit in your haste to get up. Snow whirling around your body, you pivot to your feet, eyes darting around to try and find the source of the howls.

 

_Oh god, that has to be Fen'harel or a pack of wolves hunting you!_

 

Fear follows that observation, and you instantly start wading through the snow with wide, frantic motions.

 

Not for the first time, you think that something has gone seriously wrong, the events are not following the general storyline or the order they should. Not to mention it makes no sense that you've bounced from one place to another, seemingly ending up somewhere random each time and apparently, in a new body almost every time.

 

What are you missing? Because this is NOT how you remember Dragon age Inquisition, or any other Dragon age or Bioware game playing out, for that matter.

 

Though what really makes your heart pound and hands sweat despite the freezing temperature, is the thought of Fen'harel, Solas himself, the only one left you thought you could count on acting like he should... breaking that fragile trust.

 

You will _never_ forget how all of his crimson eyes zoned in on you, you will always remember how much they reminded you of a statement Ryan once used, 'staring into the eyes of death' and then...

 

_A spike of sudden terror shoots up from your subconciousness and coils in your stomach as Fen'harel's razor sharp teeth hover inches above exposed, vulnerable skin._

 

What... happened? He... and that sound, that _sickening,_ crunching sound...

 

**Oh god.**

 

You're suddenly overwhelmed by terror, pure unadulterated terror. Your mouth opens as you start breathing faster.

 

 _He... his jaws, he..._ killed _you. He must have. No one could survive a wolf, the Drad wolf himself no less, piercing one with all those long, razor sharp teeth, especially since that outfit the male elf dressed you in provided_ no  _protection against anything, and certainly not against canine teeth._

 

Another loud howl brings your mind back to the present. 

 

_If that is Fen'harel, hell even if that's just wolves hunting you, then you need to RUN!_

 

No hesitation, you start quickly wading through the snow with determined strokes, plowing away the snow in front of you with renewed fervor.

 

But you can't stop thinking about what happened, you can't let go of the fact that _Solas_ acted like he did. Didn't you use to think that because you ended up as the inquisitor, you were safe from... 

 

_Safe from what?_

 

You swallow.

 

 _A person you thought you knew_ murdered _you, when are you going to learn that there is no such thing as_  safety _in Thedas!_

 

You blink away the tears silently falling down your cheeks as you stick your cheek out, a small, logical inner voice making it past. Technically, being killed and returning from the dead, are both technical and scientific impossibilites. Not to mention Solas never killed anyone besides Flemeth in the game and the occasional trash mobs of course, so it's is highly plausible you're missing something instead of having been the subject of murder.

 

Even the hairs on your neck are standing on end due to the severe cold but all you can think of are those red eyes. Their intensity, the way they watched as he...

 

_No one is acting like they should._

 

You stop at that, heart pounding in your ears, tears burning behind your eyelids desipte the frigid weather.

 

_Nothing is as it should._

 

You've read enough fanfictions to know _that_ for sure, at least.

 

Then what are you missing? Did you truly break the game? Is such a thing even possible?

 

Howls once more interrupt your train of thought, heart skipping a beat in response.

 

_You need to get a move on! If you stay here, the wolves, or Fen'harel, will catch up, and you don't want to be mauled or killed by either one of them!_

 

Not to mention, you really don't want to test your “dying theory" either, it is horrifying enough to simply speculate about it.

 

A series of howls echoes in the distance once again, making you resume your frantic removal of snow, pushing on, breath coming out in short, ragged breaths.

 

_Where are you even going?_

 

Seriously, you have no clue as to your whereabouts or where the closest civilisation is, but you can't stand the cold, you're terrified of testing out your “dying theory”, and you can't deal with all that's happened up until now, and you don't know for how long you'll be able to keep sane.

 

You just need to...

 

“ _My name is Mike O'Brian, miss, I'm the senior officer at the police station here in Dublin. We regret to inform you that we need your cooperation in identifying the two victims of the recent plane crash, the dna is a match...”_

 

“Shut up!” You yell at yourself, forcing your mind to stay in the present.

 

That fragile sense of bravery is interrupted by yet another howl, though this one is drawn out, long and loud despite the raging of the storm.

 

_They're closing in on you._

 

Your heart leaps into your throat as you renew your efforts, wading through the snow with desperate concentration, heart racing so fast you think you might suffer a cardiac arrest if you don't find civilisation or a hospital soon.

 

After spending what feels like hours wading through this seemingly endless winter wonderland caught in a flurry of snowflakes, you find that even with the fear of a pack of wolves dogging your flight, your arms are beginning to fail, the muscles in your feet beginning to give way instead of finding purchase on the ground.

 

Memories are hovering just outside your conciousness, threatening to tear down the mental walls you've built to stay sane. With every stroke you make, with every shoving of snow, the memories threaten to _swallow you whole._  

 

Another surge of fear follows, but you slap yourself in the face, telling yourself to focus past the flurry of snow, past the raging of the storm, to push past your limits. 

 

To not give up.

 

 _Think about it logically instead. This_ has _to be the part after Haven's buried, and there is a clear end to that quest._

 

Yes, you simply have to keep shoveling snow with your arms until the inquistion members find you.

 

_But what if that too, has been … altered? Broken?_

 

No, you can't think that way, they  _will_ find you. 

 

You're sick and tired of being afraid, of all the torment the universe seems to relish in putting you through, and you're well beyond fed up with being thrown around like a ragdoll, ending up now in a new place each time.

 

You have earned your rest, haven't you?

 

You don't know what you're supposed to learn from it all, or what you're even doing in Thedas to begin with, but you won't find out by getting devoured by wolves.

 

_Don't give up. They'll find you._

 

You nod, refusing to acknowledge the frozen teardrops on your cheeks.

 

The same instant that singular, loud howl resounds in the distance, you trip on some sort of root sticking out. With a loud 'ugh!', you unceremoniously fall forward, arms spread wide as if to embrace the snowy bed awaiting you on the ground.

 

You cough and turn, spitting out snow as you do, although you can not feel the actual cold of it any longer. Come to think of it, you feel _nothing_ from the waist and down.

 

_That's not a good sign._

 

“No shit sherlock” you speak out loud as you get up on unsteady, completely numb feet.

 

With a groan at the effort it takes to get them moving properly, you extend your arms and once more keep trudging onwards towards what you hope, is the right direction.

 

_At least you seem to get away from the wolves._

 

You bite your lower lip, forcing every numb limb to work with nothing but pure willpower.

 

_You do realise you might have already developed hypothermia and you realise you have no idea where you're going?_

 

"They'll find me" you say then, voice breaking at the end, each step suddenly making you want to burst into tears.

 

The wind howls in your ears as if to mock your determination, snow whipped up into your nose as you trip a second time.

 

Like last time, you spit up some of the snow ending up in your nose and mouth, but you're too tired to wipe away the blanket of white that almost instantly starts covering your head and face.

 

Fatigued beyond reason, you tilt your head backwards and stare up into the skies, gazing at a world consisting of nothing but grey and swirling white.

 

_At least you don't feel cold any longer._

 

"There is that," you tiredly agreee.

 

That singular, drawn-out howl echoes once more, but you're too drowsy to pay it any heed.

 

_Just close your eyes and rest for a bit, then you can keep doing this... pointless shoveling._

 

"They'll find me" you whisper in drained defiance, but as your eyes drift shut, your ears suddenly pick up on what sounds like there might be voices coming from above and not too far away. You instantly sit up, alls senses on high alert.

 

Though after what feels like an eternity of hearing nothing but the raging of the storm, you give up, dizzy from your exhaustion.

 

_Must have been your imagination._

 

You close your eyes once more.

 

_Just one minute of rest, that's all you need._

 

**One single minute.**

 


	29. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you my dear readers, and especially all of you who review - but to keep my muse inspired, to keep it from deflating, know that I'd LOVE to hear from ALL of my readers, even a little "hello, I read your story" goes a long, long way :D <3 Sometimes, it's hard to find motivation to write if I don't know what you guys think of my character/s and/or story, events, etc <3 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my ever loyal commenters, Tyler and KittyDragoness, both of whom truly brightens my day. Thank you, both of you, I love you so much <3

_It's quiet, silent, almost to the point where a single breath echo around your sitting form._

 

_You stare, eyes unblinking, at the man standing regally in front of everybody, his ageing face a myriad of fine lines, each moving in tandem as he speaks out loud._

 

 _You can see the priest's lips moving, you_ know _he's reciting a prayer – yet you hear no words leaving his mouth,_ nothing, a _deep, profound silence engulfs it all. All you can hear at this point, is your own heartbeat pounding inside your skull, an exhale that follows with a quiver at the end._

 

 _Foreign people sit next to you and all around you, all supposed colleagues, distant relatives, people who supposedly_ cared _, and they all seem to hear the priest just fine._

 

 _Distantly, your mind notes that some of these strangers are crying, some are leaning against one another, a hand upon an arm, a tissue held close to their noses, but you... you're_ blank _._

 

_You can't even tell if the priest is still reciting his prayer. Perhaps he is speaking about your parents, people he never knew or knew of._

 

_This is all so **wrong, wrong wrong wrong**! The man doesn't know who your parents are, and he certainly never held either one of their hands, he never hugged them goodnight, he never said he loved them, he never..!_

 

 _A hand is slowly reaches out, palm put over the back of your left hand.  The hand is cold to the touch, but it's a spark of life, something_ real, _and it causes the downwards thoughts to come to an abrupt halt._

 

_You inhale then, and gnaw at your lower lip to not flinch away from the uncomfortable sensation of a tumb brushing your knuckles._

 

_It is Kaylee, the only one you know here. She says something, you see her lips move as she nudge your side, but you barely register the movement in your far peripheal vision._

 

 _As time drags on and the priest keeps miming, her hand is still touching yours, her pulse a spark of life against yours. She is someone familiar, she is_ something _here, but you retract yours suddenly in vehement denial._

 

_Kaylee's face slightly scrunches up in response, but says nothing, slowly shifting her gaze back to the priest._

 

_Blinking, you realise that in your distraction, everyone has stood up.. besides yourself._

 

_Cheeks turning hot, gut churning with shame, you quickly rise as well, hitting the back of the wooden pew in front of you with a loud 'bang' . The sound even penetrates the soundproof bubble your mind's created around yourself._

 

_All eyes turn for a moment and you feel like sinking through the Earth._

 

_You grip the wood to keep yourself from fleeing the place until your knuckles turn white._

 

“ _Calm down” Kaylee murmurs as you watch, with bated breath, the priest take a step down and head towards his audience._

 

_You take half an unsteady step backwards, the back of your knees hitting the hard wooden pew behind you. The entire church suddenly is filled with music, echoing a song you clearly remember your mother playing on repeat for years every time the two of you went shopping._

 

You'll never do that again.

 

 _You blink, noticing people singing along with the lyrics, crying, and..._ the priests' eyes are grey.

 

Your father's eyes were grey too.

 

 _Suddenly something seems to_  well _up from within your chest as your entire world becomes draped in,_ drowned _in grey._

 

_Grey grey grey  grey grey  grey grey  grey grey  grey grey  grey grey_

 

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

You are rudely awoken to what sounds like someone, no wait, several people, having a shouting match. Seeing how they all yell at the same time, each trying to drown out the others, it's all one jumbled mess of words, making impossible to figure out what the heated debate is about.

 

You reflexively pull the covers further towards your head, trying to tune it out, hoping they'll stop soon despite seemingly going about it like their lives depended on it.

 

Groaning at how the loud voices makes you cringe from the sheer volume of them, you keep the cover tucked closely around you, blinking to clear the haze away from your eyes.

 

You're surprisingly warm and.. wait, covers? As in a bed? 

 

_Yes, you're in a bed. Congratulations._

 

You're instantly wide awake at that, sitting up and leaning forward on pure reflex, almost smacking your nose right into the what seems to be someone's  _very_ firm chest.

 

“You are awake”  _his_ voice suddenly speaks then, making that broad chest vibrate against your face.

 

You freeze.

 

_Did you just almost hit your nose on Solas' chest?!_

 

**Oh god!**

 

As if someone's dunked your head in cold water, you open your mouth to reflexively stutter out a quick, incoherent string of words, an utter mess of 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry!', two words that you can't seem to repeat often enough, each word quickly spoken over the other. 

 

Cheeks and ears burning to the point of pain, you fall back onto your bed and pull the covers up as far as you possibly can.

 

Your hands heavily perspire as you grip the furry blanket tightly against your form, scooting backwards, dropping the covers several times, with all the grace of a drunk octupus. When your back hits the back of the tent, Solas finally reacts by blinking quickly, his eyes turning slightly round, jaw going from slack to clenched.

 

_Well, that went well._

 

“Are you quite alright, herald?”

 

_**NO!** _

 

“Yes! I mean I didn't die so I'm alive, so that's kinda fine, no..? ”

 

_What... the actual..._

 

You feel the beginning of a hysterical laugh rising from the back of your throat as you suddenly realise what you just blurted out. 

 

If possible, Solas' eyes goes a little rounder.

 

 _You really_   _have a_  unique _way with people, don't you?_

 

**Shut up!**

 

Hiding your burning face in your palms instead, you press your mouth against them, mentally smacking yourself. Every single muscle in your face is stiff to the point of pain, jaws cramping from the effort of keeping the laughter down. 

 

_This would be a perfect time for you to go home. Go back, wake up at home, and never pick up Dragon age Inquisiton ever again._

 

Seemingly reluctantly, Solas backs away from you, jawbone hanging down his front making a small clinking noise as he scoots back.

 

You notice that his large frame is hunched over inside your small tent, meaning he takes up almost all the space from your bed to the exit. Your mouth goes dry from the observation and starts a chain of memories come rushing back. 

 

_A spike of sudden terror shoots up from your subconciousness and coils in your stomach as Fen'harel's razor sharp teeth hovers inches above exposed, vulnerable skin._

 

 

Suddenly, the tent feels like it has shrunk to the point where Solas takes up _all_ the space inside of it. Instantly, he seems to stand too _close_ , he feels and appears, too _real,_ his eyes are looking _right_ _at you_ , and you're _afraid_. 

 

Memories fresh, on repeat inside your mind, you start shuddering, arms and legs twitching. All of a sudden you're anxious to keep the elvhen within sight, and you subconciously press even harder against the back of the tent.

 

You would prefer a thousand times over if he got the message and left, but you don't dare speaking up about it.

 

_What are you? Five?_

 

Swallowing a lump that has formed at the back of your throat, you manage to steal a glance from beneath discreetly spread fingers, hoping he won't notice.

 

_Really courageous of you._

 

**Shut it!**

 

Pregnant seconds pass by and you open your mouth behind your hands several times, but nothing comes out.

 

_Just make up an excuse, say you're tired or something!_

 

Even so, you can't seem to figure out how to formulate a sentence right now, even less so a coherent, valid excuse for him to leave you alone. You know Solas is the delegated healer, you know that you are the inquisitor, and given how this body has spent way too much time trudging through icy cold snow, it is nothing strange about him being here.

 

 _And_ _yet_... 

 

The awkward tension between the two of you seems only to rise by the second. Soon it becomes unbearable, and your throat constricts, seemingly unwilling to accept the dry spit you try to force down. 

 

Peering once again from within slightly spread fingers, you notice Solas' stiff posture, and though his now narrowed eyes are roving your form, you notice they look utterly.. detached.

 

 _You're lucky you didn't develop hypothermia because then you'd probably be forced to spend a lot more time with Solas_ _in here._

 

“Herald? Blessed be, you're awake” A feminine yet mature voice suddenly speaks behind Solas' broad form, and you're instantly _flooded_ with relief so tangible you could almost reach out and touch it.

 

“Yes?” you manage to get out without stuttering.

 

Solas moves and lets a woman your mind instantly recognises as Mother Giselle pass. 

 

“I think the herald might be in a need of some assistance, would you kindly...?” He says, voice sounding so expressionless and alike the one he used before his wolf snapped its jaws around you, you curl further in on yourself. 

 

The priestess nods once, smiling softly before ushering Solas out of the tent.

 

He turns, looks over his shoulder at you one last time, before letting go of the flap and disappearing outside.

 

You exhale loudly then, feeling like the space around you suddenly looks normal again, back relaxing against the back of the tent. You put one slick hand above your racing heart, pushing the memories awaywith sudden strength.

 

“Pardon me entering without asking for permission” she speaks in a hushed, soft tone of voice, sitting down in front of you, both hands folded on her lap. 

 

You manage to find your courage to speak then.

 

“H-how long...? What was.. ? How?” Is all you get out, mind not supplying full sentences.

 

Mother Giselle, however, seems to catch onto what you're trying to convey, putting a warm, steady hand on top of your forehead.

 

“We all thought you lost, but it seems the Maker smiles upon us even in our darkest hour. With His grace, messere Solas found you in the snow not far from here.”

 

She retracts her hand.

 

So... it was Solas himself who found you then. That is, by no means, a comforting thought. 

 

_You owe him your thanks, then._

 

You nod, and suddenly realise that whomever you are now, you were not before. It's a sobering thought.

 

Not to mention you have no idea of what choices the body you're currently inhabiting, did before. Which choices has led you here? Was this one a good and kind 'herald' or was she what you liked to call an "assquisitor"? Did she romance anyone? If so, who? Before, when you shaped everything yourself, and you were so sure you'd go home again, those things didn't really matter, but... now you're here. In a new body, probably with a new face.. what are you supposed to do? You don't truly know any of these people, you knew them only from behind a computer screen, but now they're  _real_ and that makes it all the more frightening. What happened to the soul that inhabited this body before you? Where did she go? Are you some sort of... intruder? Did you inevitably change pre-set events simply by existing? 

 

_Although you should consider that you might have broken the game on several occasions with your non-canon answers and behaviour._

 

**Shut it!**

 

You are startled out of your reverie from the voices outside suddenly reaching new heights, one of them, Cassandra by the look of it, booming out the word “enough!”.

 

Without thought you reflexively grab a hold of.. Mother Giselle's sleeve?

 

_You really are five._

 

“They've been at it for hours, but they have that luxury... thanks to you.”

 

Her face is full of soft angles as she smiles at you.

 

You swallow past the lump and almost throw away the fabric, retracting your hand so fast, you slap your waist in the process. Your cheeks burn as you feel like you've been caught with your hand inside the cookie jar.

 

_Apt comparison._

 

**Shut up, already!**

 

“The enemy could not follow, and so in times of doubt, we turn to blame” She suddenly speaks then, looking past you towards the exit.

 

You open your mouth, once again, but close it again, seeing how you don't know what to reply to that, the memories of this conversation back when you played it on your computer somewhat muddled.

 

_You need to exhale as well, you know._

 

“Infighting may threaten us as much as this Corypheus” The priestess adds, voice low, looking back at you with sadness swirling inside her chocolate eyes.

 

_This is where you are supposed to ask about Corypheus._

 

“Do you... does anyone know, where Corypheus and his army are?” you manage to ask, keeping the memories of your past couple of weeks at bay... for the moment.

 

“We don't even know where _we_ are, which might be the reason why, despite the sizeable army he commands, there is no sign of him”

 

Nodding slightly at that tidbit of information, you force yourself to keep your hands far out of reach of the older woman.

 

_Child._

 

“That... or you are believed dead” The chantry mother continues, hands back to being folded on her lap. “Without Haven, we are thought helpless... or he is preparing for another attack. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature, only his effect on us” Her shoulders sags as she finishes, eyes once more trained at the tent's exit.

 

You burrow down into your covers, curling into a fetal position, keeping your head where you're able to peer up at her but not much else. Propriety be damned, it feels _safe_ to do so.

 

The same instant you watch Mother Giselle open her mouth, Cassandra's booming voice fills the silence, only that this time, Cullen actually manages to shout so loud, it drowns out it all.

 

You wince at the sheer magnitude of sound he manages to produce from his vocal cords, words echoing inside the tent. Even mother Giselle seems affected by their shouting match this time, shaking her head and sighing loudly.

 

“Why can't they just.. stop?" you bite out, "Can't you tell them to, I don't know, keep it down or something?”

 

The chantry mother looks back at you then, face turning sad once more as she shakes her head again.

 

“Another voice won't make any difference at this point. Our leaders are struggling because of what they witnessed”

 

You blink at that, noticing that the more dull Mother Giselle's eyes become, the harder it is to keep eye contact. Your hands have gone back to shivering on their hold of the soft, warm blanket's edge.

 

_She's so very..._

 

“We saw our defender stand and fall. And now... we have seen her return”

 

**Real.**

 

_You'll never get used to that._

 

You inhale a bit of spit at that and start coughing.

 

 _They are speaking of_ you, _no,_ her, _the one who inhabited this body before but now she_ is _you, and where did_ she  _go then?_

 

You clutch at your head, too many questions swirling inside of it, each more pressing than the last, though none without an answer.

 

“The more our enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear...” She stops for a second, moving a bit closer,“And the more our trials seems ordained.”

 

You can't help but make a little choked noise in reply to that beneath your covers, just barely able to breathe properly beneath your thick blanket with the way you’re pressing your face against it.

 

If only she knew what you know. If only you had the strength and courage to explain, if only you knew for certain it didn't matter if you changed things, if only you knew you could go home and forget about all of this, then even if things  _did_ change, then that wouldn't matter.

 

_That's a lot of 'ifs'._

 

You shiver as you feel Mother Giselle's hand slightly brush against the top of your head, the only exposed part at this point.

 

_And hiding inside this tent, cowering beneath the covers is going to help... how?_

 

“But that is hard to accept, no?” She suddenly continues, hand retracting as she lets out a small sigh, “What we have been called to endure? What we perhaps must come to believe?

 

You slowly peek out from beneath your covers, throat constricting once more.

 

“She...” You stop, and force yourself to speak beyond your protesting throat, “I mean, I escaped Haven and survived the blizzard, I promise you I didn't die, and I was lucky not having caught hypothermia”

 

The chantry mother nods slowly, her eyes alight with some sort of unknown emotion.

 

“Of course, and the dead cannot return from across the veil” She looks past you once more, back to the exit of the tent, and you fight the urge to burrow back into what has now turned into a pleasantly warm bed.

 

_You're still hiding._

 

“But the people know what they saw... or perhaps, what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know if the heavens are not with us?”

 

You refain from explaining how it all _really_ works in Thedas, or what the veil really is, and how it all boils down to one single person elevating himself to godhood once upon a time, who made a mistake that ultimately might cost the destruction of this world.

 

You shiver from the strangely pleasant sensation that follows as her fingerstips slightly brush against the shell of your right ear, barely able to stifle the urge to lean into her hand as it once more retracts. 

 

_Seriously, what's wrong with you?_

 

**The gesture feels familiar.**

 

_......._

 

“So tell me child, what do _you_ believe?”

 

You blink, thoughts cut off from that single sentence. 

 

_Well, you could tell her about Jesus, the virgin Mary and God. That discussion'd probably go really well._

 

**Or not.**

 

“M-mother Giselle, I really don't see how it matters what I believe, gods or not, Corypheus is a real, physical threat, and we can't match that with faith or hope, alone”

 

_Pretty much nailed it. Good job evading that one._

 

The priestess nods slowly, smiles a little sadly at you before rising from her spot. With another hand on your head, she walks past you, her robe swishing as she does.

 

As the priestess opens the tent flap, you are flooded with the sense of feeling _very_ small in this world. In truth, you will always be alone, not only here, but even if you went home. There is no one waiting for you besides your cat. 

 

And so, until you find a way to go back home.. you will need to do _something._ Hiding beneath the covers, as you'd planned on doing when you returned to the beginning of the game over and over again, just isn't going to cut it.

 

 _But you are no one, you are_ not  _Thedosian_. Someone like you should never be in charge. You have absolutely _no skills_ whatsoever, and especially now that you've been thrown into the game so late -they'll notice something's off, won't they? You can't fight, you don't even know what class this new body of yours is attuned to, and even if you did, you have no idea how to actually utilize those skills, you were _lucky_ to make it out alive from your previous battles!

 

_Not to mention, guess who's waiting for you outside, for that 'thank you'..._

 

As the breaking of a dam, it all crashes down, each and every memory since you came here, every single battle, every time you were hurt or even maimed, every time the anchor acted up and flooded you with unrealistic amounts of pain _,_ every time you woke to the startling realisation of being in a new body, _it all_ _crashes_ into you like a tidal wave _._

 

_Something shatters._

 

The voices outside have gone quiet now as you curl further into your fetal position, claw at your back, whimpers and sobs escaping your throat, nails digging into what appears to be soft fabric. You claw and you claw and you claw and....

 

 **“** ****Shadows fall and hope has fled. Steel your heart. The dawn will come.”** **
    
    
    ****The night is long****
    ****And the path is dark****
    ****Look to the sky****
    ****For one day soon****
    ****The dawn will come.****
    
    ****The shepard's lost****
    ****And his home is far****
    ****Keep to the stars****
    ****The dawn will come****
    
    ****Bare your blade****
    ****And raise it high****
    ****Stand your ground****
    ****The dawn will come****


	30. Of cinnamon rolls and meltdowns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK WHAT HAPPENS WHEN EPIC ÜBER-AWESOME PEOPLE COMMENT ON MY FIC :D :D :D :D :D Aka the chapter my muse was so inspired to write because of Tyler, KittyDragoness and Doctorkei23 said that the chapter just HAD to be posted a day early!! 
> 
> Thank you so much my dear readers, you rock my world <3 <3
> 
> \---> CHAPTER WARNINGS <\---  
> DEPICTINGS OF A MENTAL BREAKDOWN!  
> Also;  
> To all casual readers: Fluff OHOY!  
> To all colemancers: Imminent heartattack  
> To all hardcore Solasmancers: Beware!

The song fills the now empty tent, a beautiful mix of tenors and sopranos coming together in a harmonious chorus of faith, hope and desperation. Their struggle, their steadfast belief – it all shines through their voices, the sound that penetrates even the darkest corners of the space you're in.

 

But there is no room for that beauty within your chest, no strength to absorb the message carried within. No, your world has _shattered_ , a puzzle exploding into millions of pieces, a floatsam adrift on the raging seas.

 

 _Your heart starts to pick up speed as you try to properly breathe through your mouth, but even that is nearing impossible since it only makes black ichor bubble out of your mouth and nose._ _This is not how you pictured choking on your own blood would feel like._

 

Your chest feels tight, too tight, lungs are constricting as the bottom of your minds dissolves, crumbles, a void expanding, a darkness consuming the light. You continously claw at yourself, rocking on the spot, memory after memory washing over you, drowning you in the tidy of their misery. There is an endless stream of tears pouring out your eyes, a floodgate demolished, crushed by utter _despair_.

 

_You can't breathe._

 

Your hands goes to your throat as you feel like you're choking beneath the covers, breaths coming out in a rapid succession, coughed out at the end. You throw the covers off, press yourself against the back of the tent, claw at the leathery fabric, gaping like a fish on dry land.

 

 _The unknown solutio_ _n that pours into you is dark, almost sickly crimson, a blood red hue against your dark skin. Every time the liquid starts to flow – you think you can hear someone humming inside your mind, a melodic, beckoning song that fills you with trembling emotion._

 

You claw harder at the tent in response, muffled wails coming out in between the choked out noises that hardly sounds like exhales they are.

 

_A spike of sudden terror shoots up from your subconciousness and coils in your stomach as Fen'harel's razor sharp teeth hovers inches above exposed, vulnerable skin._

“ _Na din'an sahlin”_

 

You cough in response to swallowing too much snot as Solas' voice booms those final words, before snapping his jaws shut around you. Your cries of what feels like utter betrayal, a broken sound filled to the brim with hiccups and pouring snot, are nothing like those tragic, beatiful moments the Mary Sues have, and they are, for sure, nothing like the female protagonists in Hollywood movies. 

 

A surge of nausea rises from the pits of your stomach.

 

 

_Definitely not like in the movies._

 

 

Dry heaving in between loud hiccups, you press your back harder against the back of the tent, the cold draft seeping through the small crack at the bottom chilling the slightly wet fabric on your back.

 

All of a sudden, the air seems to tingle and a pair of warm arms suddenly encircle your shaking form. Too stunned to react, you go slack as your face is pressed against a soft, yet sinewy chest.

 

For the split of a second your nose is hit with the tangy smell of leather and oil, along with sweet peaches. You dry heave once more, but the sobs have gone quiet from the shock of someone unexpectantly showing up, and _touching you_ without consent.

 

“Lost at the sea, the pieces cast adrift, _clinging, clutching, falling, flailing, help me_ , _hold me_ , it is tearing, coming apart at the seams” A familiar voice speaks in an almost breathless tone of voice from the top of your head.

 

Your body instantly relaxes.  

 

_Cole._

 

“Yes, Cole is me, _help me,_ she said, so I came”

 

You sniffle then, and along with a muffled hiccup you burrow your nose into the sweet yet tangy smelling junction between his collarbone and neck.

 

Like the switch of a light, all the pain, suffering, agony, the tidal wave of memories – it all comes back, slamming into your concious mind with the brute force of a massive hurricane. You're helpless against the onslaught of images, everything whirling by in a rapid succession of chaotic emotions, a tidal wave  _dragging you under._

 

Unable to stifle the sound that seems to stem from the deepest recesses of your _soul,_ you let out a high pitched wail, a sound that corders on _desperation._ Your hands instinctively fumble at his tunic, grasping at the fabric, the strength of your clutched grip almost pulling Cole forward. He sways slightly, then wounds his arms more tightly around your shaking form.

 

Pretense thrown out the window, all propriety and reluctance to be touched and touch all but forgotten, you hiccup and release it  _all_  into his tunic. You press yourself with all your might against his strong, secure form, holding on, _clinging_  to him. Desperate for the warmth provided, you chase after that secure, safe feeling _,_ _needing_ the sanctuary his arms silently offers.

 

“Yes, _safe_ , never alone, pick up the pieces, put them back together, _breathe”_

 

Pressing yourself impossibly closer, Cole starts rocking you on the spot, murmuring nonsense as his hands rub tiny circles on your back.

 

_Your mother used to do that back when you were young, long before it all went downhill._

 

A broken wail follows that train of thought, sound muffled against his rough spun tunic. Your heart pounding, _racing_ in your chest, thumps bordering on painful, you feel like the helpless child your mind keeps insisting you were earlier.

 

Despite soaking his clothes with snot and tears, he keeps rocking you gently as you are forced to keep re-living every memory you've experienced since arriving in Thedas. It is a tide, and you're helplessly swept away by the currents, crashing against the reef over and over again. You're barely given time to breathe in between the flashbacks, but you always come back to Cole's soft voice humming a tune that resonates deeply within your chest.

 

You clutch at his tunic, afraid, so _very_ afraid  _he'll_ _leave as well._

 

“ _F_ _alling, flailing, struggling, it_ hurts! _No, don't go, don't leave me,_   _come back_ _! Shhhh,_ still here, still present,  _breathe_ _”_

 

You nod, keep holding on as another onslaught of memories drags you under. You dry heave once more, but ride out the wave with his arms encircling you further, tightening around your form. Somewhere at the back of your mind you vaguely notice the way his strong, sinewy muscles contract and then relax. 

 

_Strength means security._

 

**Hold on.**

 

You're eternally grateful for the steady thumps of Cole's heart, a calming, grounding beat against your left ear, an anchor in the raging storm. You sniffle as the tide once more crashes you like floatsam against a reef, but the brunt of the memories seem to have passed.

 

 _For how long will you be able to keep this up? How much more can you take before completely losing it?_ _You_ _need a respite, a break, you need..._

 

“I can help" Cole whispers then, "Make the pain go away _”_

 

You reflexively relax from the soft tone of voice that seems to reverbate in your entire  _being._

 

“ _No pain, no hurt, a blank slate_ , _no fear,_ _no pain,_ I can help _”_ He murmurs into your hair, lips ghosting over your scalp.

 

You shiver from the sensation, noticing that his heart have begun beating faster.

 

Blinking, you reluctantly remove your head from its pressed position, fabric making a wet squelching noise as you tilt your face to look up at your saviour. With something akin to curiosity, you're met with a pair of icy blue orbs barely visible behind a unruly mess of long bangs. Cole's focus on you is intense, unblinking, soulful eyes that seems to consume everything around them.

 

Your own catalogue his face, reflexively licking your lips as they roam his. It is all you can do to swallow past a strange feeling rising from the pit of your stomach, shifting your focus back to studying each outline of his youthful, yet haggard looking face.

 

He looks nothing like what you pictured a spirit taking form would look. He looks... this up close, he looks like anyone. 

 

_Like a real person._

 

  
**Not a spirit, no.**

 

**_Real._ **

 

He tilts his head then, and there is something very cat-like about the movement. Cole still doesn't speak and you have no idea how to interpret the dark mystery that hides within the depths of his eyes. You do know, and notice, that his hands have stopped rubbing circles on your back. 

 

_Does he mean, when he says he can help and 'take it all away' that he'd make you forget like he did to the people he 'helped' in the inquistion and in Asunder?_

 

The spirit of compassion turned human nods then, hands suddenly clenching and unclenching at your back, muscles in his arms rippling in response.

 

You blink, half in wonder as it finally dawns on you that this Cole is nothing like the innocent, slightly autistic boy some fans percieved him as. This Cole is much more like what _you_ imagined, in fact, headcanoned, he would be.

 

The intense, all consuming gaze levelled at you right now, feels nothing like the shy, avoidant boy he would sometimes appear as during your inquisition playthroughs. In fact, the way his gaze seems to  _drown out_ all else gives you flashbacks to all those exciting hours spent on your bed with a wineglass on your nightstand, pouring over Asunder, and... you're even re-living the spark of attraction you felt for the dark Cole you got to glimpse when you read that book.

 

_You have some serious issues with your taste in men._

   
Yes, you would always romance the hobo elf whenever you played your elven mage, and yes, you could genuinely say you fell heads in heels in love with all that is Solas, but Cole... You remember reading Asunder and wishing he had been a romance option. You can still recall that spark of attraction you felt when you read the book. You can still remember all the nights spent in the dark after that... 

 

You shiver, and suddenly you can't keep eye contact.

 

_Hope he doesn't pick up on the innuendos contained in those thoughts,  because you wouldn't be able to live with yourself knowing that Cole possessed the knowledge of how you felt about him when reading Asunder._

 

Definitely not the best way to think about a spirit-turned-person, especially since a lot of events in Asunder were written to be traumatic for Cole himself.

 

You swallow and mentally kick yourself, praying he doesn't pick up on all of your thoughts.

 

He does blink then and despite not looking up, you can _feel_ his eyes on you.

 

His blonde head remains tilted, yet he still does not speak. The only visible proof of Cole being alive right now, are those soft exhales leaving his slightly plump lips, a small shudder at the end.

 

You swallow again, forcing your mind to instead take a moment to consider what he offered earlier, hands tightening their loosened grip on his soaked tunic.

 

_Coward._

 

But even so, you can't deny there is something very alluring about what he's offering.

 

_Excuses._

 

If Cole took away your memories of your past life up until this point, wouldn't that help? If you didn't remember all the agonising ordeals you've faced since you came here, not to mention your turbulent childhood, wouldn't that mean that you could become her _\- the Thedosian inquisitor,_ for real?

 

 _Child._  

 

Besides, him turning you into a clean slate, a person for the current world and circumstances to mold means you'd be able to be who you were expected to be without old wounds rearing their ugly head when you need them the least. You'd be able to forget all the painful longing you have of a home that may or may not be within reach.

 

 

“A bird can only soar when it's beating its wings to the ebbs and flows, riding the current the right way. Back _there_ the puzzle is whole, yet the pieces are _here”_ Cole pauses for a moment and suddenly his eyes seem to light up with an eerie, otherwordly glow “I can help, _a flower blooming in its rightful meadow, a flower amongst many, make the puzzle whole,_ _make it_ real” He ends in his very typical spirit-out-of-the-fade kind of way, eyes slowly turning back to their icy blue hue, colour darkened by this dimly lit tent.

 

You remember there being a lot of discussions on forums about Cole in particular, his strange phrasings and odd ways, some insinuating that his speech was jumbled and random. However, you perfectly understand the meaning behind his words, you always seemed to be able to do so, even back when Cole was nothing but a character behind a computer or television screen.

 

_But is forgetting everything, to become one with the world you're currently living in, truly the answer?_

 

Part of your mind, the frightened, traumatised,  _exhausted_ part that clings onto Cole's tunic, shouts its acquiescence, whilst the other rebel against the very idea of such a drastic, exaggerated measure, frightened over losing oneself so completely.

 

There is an ongoing battle inside your mind, both warring with pros and cons, but for some reason, you can't seem to stop your thoughts from wandering back to Cole, eyes in a level with his slightly plump lips, inches from your eyes. You instinctively lick your own lips, before gravity seems to pull your head backwards, up and once again you are caught within the dark depths of his icy blue eyes. They seem to bore into yours, seeing beyond the physical plane, delving into every part and fibre of your very being. It is then you come to a startling realisation.

 

_You trust Cole. Utterly, wholly._

 

The muscles on his arms stiffens the same instant you think those loaded sentences, hands on your back suddenly as still and heavy as a marble statue.

 

You have complete faith in him, secure with him on a deeper level that you didn't think possible even if you don't know this Cole other than what you've learned from behind a computer or television screen.

 

Then it hits you. Surely he must know at this point that you're not from here? From this world? What if he told anyone about it? 

 

_Cole wouldn't do that, would he?_

 

You take a breath and exhale with a shudder at the end.

 

**_No._ **

 

_He wouldn't._

 

Cole himself remains silent, but you know he can, and am, reading your mind and all the warring, along with the raw truths therein. Like the opening of a dam, you allow images of your previous life to flow freely. You just make sure to try and not think about any moments related to reading Asunder or playing Dragon Age inquisition, unsure of how you possessing that much knowledge of past and present events would affect the spirit boy.

 

Cole's heart beats in a rapid series of thumps then, head tilting more in a feline manner until your eyes fully meet, both set of orbs merely inches from one another, Thedosian against Earthian, spirit against human.

 

You instinctively reach out and remove the long, blonde bangs obscuring his face. You want to see his face, you want to see the reaction he has to viewing your world. It is then that another startling realisation hits you;

 

_You love him._

  

From the confession of such a seemingly innocent thought, the world melts away, leaving only two sets of eyes creating their own space and reality. There is nothing alive there but two hearts beating in sync, breaths coming out at the same time, softness against coiled, restricted strength, icy blue depths against your own. You're the ship caught in Cole's orbit, and something very much like gravity seems to make your faces inch ever closer to one another. You're helpess to stop it, a fly caught within a major hurricane, a ship crashing against a rocky cliff, a salmon swimming against the current.

 

_You love him. Fully, wholly, like the big brother, the confidant, the family you never had._

 

He blinks then and you break eye contact to nuzzle at his neck, mind slowly going blank within this calm, soothing, safe, bubble only the two of you inhabit.

 

Despite how avoidant to touch you know Cole is, not to mention the fact that you just confessed to loving him like a family member even though he, in his experience, doesn't even _know you_ , he seems to take it in stride and even reciprocate.

 

You're grateful beyond measure, and you hope that feeling radiate enough for him to feel it too.

 

You take a deep breath then, inhaling his sweet, peachy scent along with the tangy smell of oil, all boiling down to a comforting whole that _is_ _Cole._

 

_You can't remember the last time you felt this safe, this... calm._

 

There has been a discreet drop in temperature despite the warmth his arms and body provide, goose bumps breaking out on your arms. As on cue, Cole's left arm lets go of you for the split of a second, furry blanket suddenly wrapped around the two of you. Slowly, almost tentatively he proceeds to let his long legs encircle your back and a small, content noise makes it past your lips in response.

 

_It is so peaceful here._

 

****Yes.** **

 

The muscles on his arms stiffens the same instant you think that single, loaded sentence, hands on your back suddenly as stiff and heavy as a marble statue.

 

_Cole is your shield._

 

You never want this embrace to end, never want the bubble to break. If this is a dream, then you never want to wake up.

 

_You're safe... for real this time._

 

There has been a drop in temperature, you notice suddenly, despite the warmth his arms and body provide. As on cue, Cole's left arm lets go of you for the split of a second, blanket then wrapped around the two of you. His right arm stays snaked around your curled form beneath the cover.

 

Silence, broken only by the occasional exhale, descends upon the tent.

 

**The song has ended.**

 


	31. Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I swear this chapter was supposed to be posted yesterday! Then electricity went bonkers, internet went on vacation and... well, here we are >.< Please forgive me <3
> 
> Once again, a million thank-you's to KittyDragoness, Tyler and Doctorkei23 who all three have been incredibly kind to comment on every chapter - know that I feel so blessed and humbled by your loyalty towards this fic <3 Hope this update lives up to my gratefulness and I hope you'll enjoy all the... hilarious moments in it <3 xD 
> 
> This might not be the best I can do with this chapter, but I wanted to get it out here fast so... if there are glaring errors -please point them out to me so I can edit <3

Had you been a cat, you would have purred. Seeing how you're not, it's more like you're some sort of sunbathing reptile the way you're basking in the heat Cole's body and the blanket provides. His heartbeat keeps beating irregularily against your ear, yet the sound is soothing despite its rapid pace.

 

_You're not alone._

 

With another noise of contentment, you close your eyes, grateful beyond measure that despite Cole not knowing you nor you truly him, seems to have no issues offering his silent support, using that strong, toned body of his as a shield against the world outside.

 

Your mind, calm and peaceful within his embrace, lazily wanders back to the offer you were given.

 

What would happen if you allowed Cole to wipe your mind, then managed to get back to Earth somehow? Would you altering your memories have an effect on you back home or would you returning home mean your memories came back? You are going to need the knowledge they contain if you made it back to Earth, but you don't need their burden here, in Thedas... Or do you? You have no real way of knowing if you ever find a way to get home, or if you'll stay here for the rest of your life. Is losing crucial knowledge of future events truly worth it?

 

With a small noise from the back of your throat that some might call a whimper, you grip Cole's soaked tunic tighter until your knuckles starts turning white from the effort. The spirit turned man shifts slightly to accommodate your clutching hands, long bangs tickling the tip of your left ear.

 

Rationally speaking you know that Cole, as a denizen of Thedas, wouldn't know the answer to any of those questions, but you're itching to ask them even so.

 

_However, wouldn't it be such a relief to finally find true peace within your mind? To no longer suffer homesickness?_

 

It would, you can't deny that.

 

You've been through so much, not only lately, but all your life, surely you deserve some respite?

 

All the failures, the heartache, the pain.. if you forgot it all, wouldn't that make you stronger, a more stable human being, a person better suited to lead what is going to be the mightiest organisation Thedas has ever seen?

 

Although forgetting it _all_ , also means you'll lose _all_ knowledge of the game, both future and past... which includes you knowing of Solas' plans and the cogwheels he's already set in motion, not to mention the predicted the outcome of all that, information you might be able to turn to your advantage. Forgetting also means losing the safety pre-ordained events provides...

  
Could you truly afford forgetting everything that could be potentially life saving if it turns out that you're stuck permanently in Thedas?

 

You breathe in Cole's scent, letting the now familiar smell of him envelop all your senses.

 

Would you truly be able to watch Solas tear down the veil, all the while remaining sane whilst everything and everyone burns, watching as the world known as Thedas perishes in an all consuming fire?

 

You swallow.

 

It would be an utterly selfish choise to forget how to potentially stop such an event from ever happening. Could you truly sit back and do nothing, take the easy way out knowing you'd more or less would be the cause of millions of people's deaths?

 

All the inquisitors you've played in Trespasser would have saved Solas if they could, but the question is... if you end up staying alive for that long, and don't possess the prior knowledge of who Solas is and will do, would you truly stand a chance in preventing him from tearing down the veil?

 

You swallow again.

 

No.. most likely not. If you choose to the option to forget, then you'll do so full aware of the fact that there's a chance that you might be dooming each and every citizen of Thedas to an almost certain death.

 

” _I would have them die in peace. I'm no monster”_ You can hear Solas' voice echo within your mind from the end of the Trespasser DLC.

 

You shudder, not paying your now slightly shaking hands any heed.

 

 _Could you truly live with yourself knowing_ _you'd_ _be complicit in_ **genocide _?_ **

 

You bite your lower lip and slowly shake your head at that. Speaking this honestly, and admitting all this to yourself while knowing Cole must be listening in, has to be the closest thing you'll ever come to complete trust.

 

_You have faith in his silence, you trust he'll tell no one of what you've thought of and in the end, declined._

 

There is no doubt left that Cole knows you for who you truly are, and the potential events to come, as his eyes _fixate_ on you. You notice that vague glowing start once more, and you can't seem to look away, transfixed by the sheer _presence_ this spirit turned man suddenly emanates.

 

“Yes, it sings a song of _thrashing, tearing_ , _burning, agony_ , the oldest of songs hidden within a mirror, mirage of fire reflected is there, _burning, searing, tearing,_ _no, maker no, nononononno._...” Cole's eyes blink then and the glow slightly dims _“_ I don't know this, but I do, I see the reflection, the thread, yet I don't, _confessing, confessing_..”

 

Suddenly you are more or less, janked out of Cole's gaze by the rush of frigid, immesurably cold air. You blink, mind coming to a standstill as the icy winds is followed by the one person you didn't expect to show up, and don't want to face right now.

 

“Herald if I may have a moment of... _Cole_?”

 

_Solas._

 

The spirit's arms stiffen to the point where it almost feels like he's trying to smother you rather than keep you safe. Despite the heat he still emanates, it feels like someone just threw a bucket of ice over your head.

 

“Yes” Cole says then as the air itself seems to turn sour, “She needed help, so I came, _arm around her, beneath the blanket, what is she? Inapropriate, she is...”_ Cole ends the rapid rant of words with a gasp, suddenly letting go of you to clutch his head. You, who had supported all your weight on him, falls to the side with a small gasp.

 

“Cole. That is quite enough.” Solas speaks as you struggle a bit before fully sitting up, the old elvhen's eyes narrowing, jaw clenching to the point where even the ears seem to move.

 

You suddenly miss the comfort and safety within Cole's embrace with a sharp pang in the chest. You feel naked all of a sudden, exposed,  _alone._ The same instant, Cole makes a choked noise, and his eyes leaves the floor, hat bobbing as he looks up to meet Solas' intense gaze.

 

The elf, no the elvhen, before you no longer looks like the apostate Solas. He stands tall, almost regally, looking down on you two like...

 

_A spike of sudden terror shoots up from your subconciousness and coils in your stomach as Fen'harel's razor sharp teeth hovers inches above exposed, vulnerable skin._

“ _Na din'an sahlin”_

 

“S-s-stop magicking him, C-cole's done nothing wrong!” You reflexively cry out, the sound of your own voice wrenching you from the memory, pushing back the image of eight red eyes simultainously blinking, _fixated on you_.

 

The old elvhen blinks then, nothing like the eight eyed Fen'harel in your memory, a set of blue orbs comically wide as he leans slightly backwards, crossing his arms. Yet despite this seemingly placating gesture this Solas still reminds you of Fen'harel, or the image you got of him as Fen'harel, rather than Solas the apostate.

 

“I have not been..." He rubls his temples then, lips setttling into a fine line "Pardon me, herald if I came at an inapropriate time, but it is of utmost importance that...”

 

Cole makes another whimpering sound, and the sheer anger in response to the spirit boy potentially being hurt by Solas, of all people, floods you with adrenaline. You ball your fists, pivoting on the spot, using your body as a shield in front of Cole, spreading your arms wide.

 

“STOP IT THEN!”

 

Cole bursts into a string of what you guess must be Elven then, and Solas, even with clenched teeth, responds in that same lyrical language. The old elvhen's presence seems to grow stronger, larger, engulfing the entire tent meanwhile Cole seems to shrink in on himself. After another series of nonsensical words, the spirit turned human rocks on the spot, waist bent forward, arms around himself. 

 

“ENOUGH!” You snap, anchor lightening up and crackling in response, “I have no idea what the hell you're doing to Cole, but you have no right to come strutting into my tent like some fucking peacock and mess with _my_ brother!”

 

It is Solas' turn to make a choked noise then, the elf taking another step back, oppressing presence suddenly all but vanished.

 

” _Brother_? Cole? He's...”

 

”A spirit? Human? You don't get to choose that for him, Solas, and Cole was  _invited here_ , you were not, so leave him alone and behave, or I swear, I'll scream so loud, the entire fucking camp is gonna come running!”

 

Solas stutters then, actually _stutters_ and takes another step backwards, back hitting the tent flap, shoulders slouching, chest visibly deflating. You also notice his jaw clenching to the point where it looks like his ears move once again. Solass eyes twitch in their now narrowing state, blue orbs darting back to Cole's huddled form.

 

The spirit turned human pays him no heed, still rocking on the spot, arms around himself, murmuring in a rapid succession to himself.

 

Ignoring Solas' attempts to seem placating, you turn your back on him and reach out, hoping to make Cole calm down. But the boy recoils from your outreached hand, a small whimper following as he refuses to meet your gaze. You withdraw your hand, feeling so...  _hurt._  

 

Cole loudly whimper then, and in a burst of dark smoke, vanishes.

 

You clench your own jaws, staring at the spot he was just at. You breathe through your nose, cursing the fact that you have no knowledge of how magic works or Cole's abilities.

 

 

_He left..._

 

**They always leave.**

 

All anger seems to dissipate then, your own shoulders slumping, your soaked clothing reminding you of your haggard state.

 

_Your parents left as well._

 

You stifle the urge to wrap your own arms around yourself, you already must appear so small, _so weak_. 

 

**Shut up!**

 

Solas presses his back against the tent flap, one slightly twitching palm reaching back to rest on its surface... Yet for some unfathomable reason, he hasn't left.

 

 

All of a sudden truly realising the state you're in, the state he's in, and the fact that the two of you are _alone_ in this tent and you just accused him of hurting Cole, and his lack of a proper answer at that, slams into you with the force of a sledgehammer.

 

You furiously blush, air turning awkward to the point where you feel like you could genuinely sink through the Earth. You keep your eyes trained on the rumpled blanket on the ground.

 

The silence drags on, until it almost feels heavy to breathe the air from the awkwardness that has settled. Why hasn't Solas left?

 

Wait... he said something about... oh. Suddenly you remember. You had forgotten the canonical order of things from the way you broke down in Cole's arms and..

 

_He wants to talk about the orb. Tell you that it is of his people._

 

Swallowing past what appears to be an impossibly big lump at the back of your throat, you cough a bit and force the air out into what you hope is a steady tone of voice.

 

_He refuses to talk about what he did to Cole... why?_

 

“Uh.. you wanted to talk to me?” You say instead, too shy, too caught up in the awkward moment to be able to formulate anything else. However, despite your best effort, your voice turns high pitched, shrill at the end. Even though your eyes seems to want to drill a hole into the ground, you notice Solas wince.

 

_..... Really?_

 

“Yes, I was tasked by seeker Cassandra to check on your state of being, and I wished to ask for a moment of your time, but...” He gestures resignedly at the spot previously occupied by Cole and you.

 

The old elvhen's palm actually curls around the tent flap then, slightly raising it the second afterwards, jaw clenching once more, evidently breathing through the nose.

 

You realise then that your behaviour must appear so... off to him, not to mention the others.

 

Swallowing a lump, you feel that pang of longing for the safety of Cole's embrace once more. You're not ready for this. You're not ready to become the inquisitor, you're not ready to...

 

_Chickening out again, are we?_

 

You slightly shake your head then, saliva seemingly stuck on your tongue, throat consticting.  You desperately wish Cole would come back.

 

_Coward._

 

“I.. uh" You force the spit down, "don't know why you freaked out and magicked Cole, but I swear we weren't doing anything, I mean I know you're all protective of spirits and stuff, but Cole's not a spirit, well I mean he is but he's also human being and all we did was sharing body heat and...”

 

You stop when you notice Solas' eyes start bulging once more, jaw going slack to the point where it looks like he could turn into an owl at any second, flying right out of this tent.

 

_Wait a minute... did you just...?_

 

You're given no more time to explain yourself, and maybe that's just as well as a seemingly fuming Cassandra enters the tent. Her jaw goes just as slack as she takes in your haggard state and the way you're fidgeting with the hem of your tunic.

 

She sputters a bit, taking a step backwards, then shaking her head, narrowing her eyes, all seemingly within the same movement.

 

“H-herald, you... Maker, you shouldn't be alone with a man, and if you're up on your feet then we need you outside, Cullen and the rest can't decide on...”

 

“Oh god, Cassandra,I'm not **...** " You struggle to find the right words, and the more you do, the more intense Solas' gaze seem to become, "I mean yes, I _was_ alone with Cole, but I was only sharing body heat with him, I'm not a kid and I mean he's a spirit so he's technically not a man, I mean he _is_ , but not a man-man so...” 

 

… Your jaw snaps shut as you realise that the two of them are now staring wide eyed at you, the protruding vein on Cassandra's forehead looking just about ready to burst.

 

“You... shared body heat with.. Th-that's... “ She sputters out, gesturing wildly with her hands, eyes seeking Solas', but he doesn't seem to be able to tear his own gaze away from ceiling.

 

_Oh no, oh christ, they think you..._

 

“IT'S NOT LIKE I HAD SEX WITH HIM OR ANYTHING!” You blurt out, watching the way Solas and Cassandra simultainously take a somewhat stumbling step backwards.

 

Solas stutters out a string of nonsensical words, right hand reaching up to cover his face, nose sticking out between the splayed fingers. Cassandra on the other hand hits the back of her head on the exit's log holding the ceiling together. Both Thedosians blush in tandem, their faces darkening to comical proportions. It is then that you realise...

 

**That might not have been the smartest thing to shout at the top of your lungs.**

 


	32. Misunderstandings (Solas POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2018-03-08 EDITED CHAPTER! <3  
> So... life happened :( I am SO SO sorry for the late chapter, I sincerely hope the length of this chapter (5100 words+) makes it worth the wait :D :D I was inspired to try my hands at writing this one after having read your comments and thinking, hmm... I want to show my readers that like much else, there are two sides to a coin :D The first part was Beta'd by the AWESOME, kind, awe-inspiring, hard-working, Doctorkei23!! <3 All kudos to her beta-ing the first part :D :D

I reach out with my hand and discreetly feel for the tr- _human male's_ life force, looking with my inner eye for his presence within this world, searching for those unique threads of pure light connected to the whole. However, in this particular case, the light of the threads waxes and wanes, the essence therein seemingly too thin to glow to its full potential. In fact, his light seems to dim with each passing second, the threads looking so thin they might snap at any second.

 

I decide that using a little magic to try and strengthen the threads is safe enough, my mana pool should be full enough in case it is needed to be used on a larger scale or elsewhere.

 

Letting my aura expand, I reach out with my magic, dabbing it in my own life force, nurturing the thin thread, keeping it from snapping. With surgical precision, I proceed to search for the injuries that might be the cause of this human male's decline.

 

He twitches once in response, then twice as I find the source of his critical state. Instantly I realise it is futile to even try and save him. There is almost no blood left in his already exhausted system. Blood loss is a complicated ailment since no matter how much life force I'd feed him, he would die as soon as I stopped. It is a fact that these quicklings' bodies are unable to regenerate at a rate that is required to save their lives.

 

Calling my magic back, I feel a slight shift in reality as the threads in front of me slacken, their light going out, the threads snapping the same instant they do.

 

I exhale and make a mental note of the casualty, pursing my lips as I move onto the next.

 

My next patient must be an elf, judging by the slightly pointed ears peeking out beneath a black blob of grimy, unkept, knotted hair, body fully covered beneath a layer of scorched, dirty cloth positively reeking of soot and decaying flesh. Nostrils subconsiously scrunching at the stench, I reach out and look with my inner eye, searching for her life force. However, it is hard to remain concentrated as the sickening odour of burnt flesh and dried blood seeps into my every pore even though I'm standing at least two feet away from her body. Using a small amount of magic to keep the air breatheable and odourless, I continue looking for the glow of her unique ball of light within this small, makeshift camp.

 

Though no matter how much I probe, my aura expanding to look for the faintest trace of her presence, my efforts turn up empty handed. It seems I can not sense anything remotedly connecting the body in front of me to this plane, I can not see nor feel her being here. There is no light, no threads responding to my call, nothing.

 

_Another casualty then._

 

Making one more mental note of another death, I move on to the male human thrashing next to the deceased elf. This one's shaking violently, murmuring nonsense from inside a green cowl, arms flailing about outside the pelts.

 

I once more open my inner eye and search for his life force. My sight is instantly met with solid looking threads, their glow healthy and lit up. Despite their seemingly healthy state, my experience tells me to reach out and allow a small amount of healing magic to mix with them, silently allowing my mana to reach into the convulsing body and soothe the light therein. I mold it with the delicate finesse of one with hundreds of years of diligent practise so the magic leaving me is soft, soothing, a balm upon the body of the seemingly injured human in front of me. Watching as he slowly stops thrashing, I scrunch up my nose in silent concentration, once more searching for the root of his discomfort.

 

The man murmurs something as I dig around, and then turns the other way, a loud snore following.

 

Though no matter how much I look, I find no injury, no wound, nothing that would explain the male's erratic behaviour. His threads looks perfectly healthy, his heartbeat keeps a steady rhythm. Knowing my efforts might have been a waste of mana, I grit my teeth and exhale through my nose.

 

 _I'll never get used to having limited amounts of mana_ , I think to myself as I move onto the next patient.

 

Just as I reach out to look for this particularly haggard looking human's life force, the clinking of heavy armour on crunching snow reaches my ears, breaking my concentration.

 

My magic reflexively retreats back into myself as the smell of leather, metal, and female overpowers my nose the next instant.

 

  
_Seeker Cassandra._

 

“Solas, there you are. You have to check on the herald, the commander and I heard some... disconcerning noises coming from her tent”

 

I have not yet turned to look at the woman, and I need not do so in order to know she believes her 'request' is of utmost importance. My mind already pictures her frown, thin lips drawn, arms crossed, her stance one of moderate superiority.

 

To one such as I, she seems to believe, it is a natural disposition, me being both an 'apostate' and elvhen, or as they call it now, elf. My ears and abilities differs from hers, therefore I am lesser.

 

I have come to learn in my short time awake that such way of thinking is common amongst all the quicklings.

 

“As you wish” I reply, knowing her 'request' is not optional, my native tongue on the verge of slipping past my lips.

 

I choose to turn then, and as predicted, the seeker's face is somewhat flushed, eyes narrowed, her posture stiff with arms crossed.

 

She merely nods at me as I pass, then heads back to the middle of the camp, stopping short of the campfire someone started there. The fire itself stays alive being fed with mana. Thankfully, they did not deem it _my_ duty to keep it so.

 

Soon enough I find myself outside the Dalish woman's tent. I reach out, then stop halfway through the motion, my hand hovering inches from the tent's opening.

 

The sounds might simply be due to her being asleep, experiencing some sort of fitful dream, as she seems prone to do. Even so, my duty is clear, I need to check on her well being. Especially considering that she developed quite a severe case of hypothermia when she was gone.

 

My hand twitch as I purse my lips in indecision.

 

Should I knock? Simply enter?

 

The seeker and the commander of the human forces did delegate me as her personal healer, and so it is my duty and responsibility to check up on her whether the seeker asks me to or not.

 

So why am I hesitating?

 

It is proper to knock, and enter only after being invited, especially seeing how she is a woman, and I a man, but... She has oftentimes told me I am 'old fashioned' in sticking to propriety, but if I tried to explain and ask of her to show me the same courtesy, she would simply call me 'hahren' in a mocking tone, and drag me around instead, doing everything at every turn to try and get me to loosen up'. She is a free spirit, this Dalish elf, I'll be the first to admit, however, I feel I am much too old to dance along her tune for longer amounts of time.

 

Suddenly I hear a cough and slightly turn my head, my eyes finding the seeker's scowling face. She nods her head at the tent, and clench her jaw.

 

I've lost track of time again it would seem, something that is becoming something of a habit as of late.

 

Hesistating no longer, I utter the proper sentence “excuse me” before sliding open the thick, hide flap a moment later.

 

“Herald, if I may have a moment of... __Cole__?”

 

My mind screeches to a halt at the sight of said woman curled up against the spirit, their arms stiff and tightened around her covered form.

 

I can literally feel the way my eyes has gone owlishly round.

 

During normal circumstances, I like to think of myself as a restrained sort of person, always in control of what I display to the world. Having lived for such a long time and having played The Game throughout the ages prepares one for the most uncomfortable or odd situations imagineable, yet at the sight before me – a young, mortal woman wrapped inside a pelt, curled in a most inappropriate way against a spirit of compassion, every single word seems to disintegrate at the back of my throat along with my ability to control my reactions.

 

“Yes” the spirit speaks suddenly, “She needed help, so I came, __arm around her, beneath the blanket, what is she..? Inapropriate, she is...”__

 

Still reeling from the sight, I reflexively slam my mind shut.

 

The fade being gasps in response, letting go of the human’s herald to clutch at their head.

 

I feel a pang of guilt at how harshly I threw the spirit out, but it was necessary. The apologise burns at the back of my tongue as the woman falls to the side with a tiny, whimpering noise, revealing a papery thin body, clothes looking haggard and soaked in mucus.

 

 _She seems well enough despite the apparent malnutrition_ , _no signs of her previous state of hypothermia_ , I note detachedly.

 

Does she not know what could happen if the spirit, in his purpose, his will to help, absorbed too much of the mental pain her aura practically radiates, no _screams,_ at me? Is she that irresponsible as to ignore that a spirit of compassion, so innocent, so pure in its wish to help – might just as easily turn into a spirit of despair?

 

 _Demon_ , my mind supplies, _they call it 'demon' in this age._

 

Seeing how the spirit still claws at its head, my tongue seems to loosen, my guilty conciense growing at having to view its distressed state.

 

“Cole. That is quite enough.” I speak, once more without fully thinking my words through.

 

It is apparent by the fade denizen's reaction, and the herald's as well for that matter, that I may have allowed a little too much of my current state slip past my lips.

 

I grit my teeth and set my jaw at that, my eyes narrowing as I try to banish a growing sense of frustration swirling inside my chest.

 

I do not enjoy, nor do I make a habit of losing control of myself. I really _shouldn't_ , I'm too old to act like a mere youth, even in the events that this camp's resident Dalish and human's herald might corrupt such a rare and marvelous spirit. True to her heritage, despite her age, she reminds me of a child, fumbling, clinging, living in the now, ignorant yet not malevolent in its intentions. It makes me ball my hands into fists.

 

I remember an old friend telling me once that actions speak louder than words, and I know now that he was right.

 

Mentally I shudder as my mind whispers of old, pent-up memories of said friend. Vehemently I push them back, in no mood to deal with any more guilt than I already am.

 

_I did what I had to do._

 

Suddenly, the spirit makes a small choked noise, and his eyes leaves the ground to look directly at _me._ Our eyes lock, and all of a sudden I can feel their compassionate presence hovering close to my mind, their very essence seeking mine. I straighten a bit as my aura instinctively reaches out to soothe the distressed spirit. With the delicate finesse that stems from hundreds of years spent practising, I allow a tiny bit, just a hint, of calming magic to seep through, hoping to show the fade denizen that I regret treating it so harshly before.

 

“S-s-stop magicking him, C-cole's done nothing wrong!” the Dalish suddenly cries out, and my concentration breaks, a tiny wave of dispelled magic following.

 

I blink at that, leaning slightly backwards, crossing my arms. I have no idea what to do with them otherwise. Breathing through my nose, I know some of the rising frustration can be found within my tone of voice even though I am aiming for keeping it as level, and mature, as possible.

 

“I have not been..." 'magicking him', is what I want to end the sentence with, but the strange, foreign words die at the back of my throat.

 

Indirectly I had used magic, but not specifically _on_ the spirit and certainly not with the intent of injuring or causing harm, to their person.

 

Also ' _Magicking_ '?

 

I don't understand how her speech pattern can have so drastically taken a turn for the worse, but it causes my already overloaded mind to rebel. I rub my temples in response, settling my lips into a fine line. Perhaps I should steer the conversation back to the purpose which drove me here in the first place?

 

"Pardon me herald, if I came at an inappropriate time, but it is of utmost importance that...”

 

All of a sudden the fade denizen makes another whimpering sound, and in response, the young woman seems to spring to life. Balling her fists, she pivots from the ground, standing in front of the spirit with her arms spread wide as if she's physically trying to shield him from my sight.

 

“STOP IT THEN!” she shouts, and I feel the full brunt of the headache as it slams into my skull.

 

 _What?_ I think and clench my jaw further, my left eye slightly twitching in response to the pounding behind my temples.

 

Suddenly the spirit bursts into my native tongue.

 

” **Breaking, tearing, see the mask in the mirror, protect what was but isn't, must do it, no, all wrong! Wrong wrong wrong wrong”**

 

Used to the fade beings' way of speech, I respond in kind, but I coat my words with the warning I hope it will hear, and heed.

 

” **You need not stay here, Compassion, her light is flickering no longer. Be wary of your own and leave before the darkness might fester, make you** _ **change.”**_

 

The spirit's aura seems to shrink then, body seemingly hunching in on itself. I feel another pang of guilt for the way the world is today, for the benevolent spirits roaming these lands to have become so far apart from themselves.

 

As on cue, it starts speaking in a rapid succession, alternating between Elvhen and Human, _no, Trade,_ my mind supplies, so quickly it all comes out as a jumbled, incoherent mess of lilting vocals and harsh consonants.

 

Bent at the waist, the corporeal being puts its arms around itself, rocking on the spot. It is a very child-like motion, though such young, mortal behaviour is to be expected if it was used not according to its purpose, spending every day amongst people not of its own.

 

“ENOUGH!” The herald suddenly exclaims, and I can not stifle a wince as the loud sound cuts into my furiously pounding skull.

 

It had almost slipped my mind that she's still sharing this cramped space with us.

 

“I have no idea what the hell you're doing to Cole, but you have no right to come strutting into my tent like some fucking peacock and mess with __my__ _brother_!”

 

My mind comes to a screeching halt for the second time this day at that. Instinctively I take a slightly off-balance step backwards, unsure what the noise at the back of my throat is, or why I can't seem to keep it down.

 

_She can not possibly be calling, and indirectly binding, a spirit of compassion by such waking-world terms... can she?_

 

” _ _Brother__? Cole? He's...”

 

She interrupts me with a glare so severe, so hostile, I freeze on the spot.

 

”A spirit? Human? You don't get to choose that for him, Solas, and Cole was __invited here__ , you were not, so leave him alone and behave, or I swear, I'll scream so loud, the entire fucking camp is gonna come running!”

 

A mess of jumbled words tears themselves from the back of my throat in response, and in my haste to stop their onslaught, I stutter.

 

I, a general of old, pride taken form, _stutters_ in front of this distant descendant of my people _._ Reeling from this- another jarring turn of events, I take another step backwards, my back pressing against the leathery exit's flap. I reflexively slouch to the point where I'm sure even she can see the way I visibly deflate. I clench my jaw and blink as the words “brother” and “scream so loud the entire fucking camp is gonna come running” keeps repeating themselves in my mind.

 

Why is she acting this way?I've done nothing to deserve her ire, done no harm to her being, no harm to the fade being.

 

_I am not the one here making outlandish claims to a rare spirit of Compassion._

 

This whole conversation has spiralled out of control, and that is... I refuse to allow myself to finish that thought, using iron will to focus on the now, concentrate on the way the lithe woman in front of me glares daggers at my being.

 

My eyes slightly twitch in response, then dart to the spirit's huddled form, but they seemingly pays us no heed. The spirit is still rocking on the spot, still murmuring incoherently to itself.

 

Despite my state of being, I reach out with my aura to try and soothe the agitated fade denizen once more. However, this time my efforts are met with resistance, my eyes almost bulging out of my head as I follow the string of magic preventing me from fully reaching out, and realise... that the magic emanates from the herald herself. And not from the anchor's or  _my_ magic, either, no, this is a steady hum, an unfamiliar vibration of sorts,on a frequensy which I have never encountered before. I have never felt magic resonate on such a low, humming frequensy before, and judging by her state of being – she is projecting it onto the spirit subconciously. Crude use of magic was not unheard of back where I come from, but...

 

I feel my eyes widen to comical proportions as I ponder the fact that she has _never_ displayed any sort of aptitude for magic prior to today.

 

 _Could hypothermia awaken an individual to the possibilities of magic at this day and age?_ I have no clue, my information is outdated and that fact leaves a sour taste in my mouth, makes me want to sit down somewhere quiet and think, research it. Preferably far away from this out-of-character -woman and her perplexing, not to mention vexing, behaviour.

 

I blink mutedly as she turns her back on me and reach out with one hand towards the rocking spirit. However, they recoil from the gesture, a tiny, choked whimper following.

 

My hands ball into fists.

 

As if the situation wishes to turn even more perplexing, the fade denizen suddenly whimpers so loudly, my heartstrings feel a tug so sharp, they feel ready to snap. The tongue inside my mouth goes dry at how small, how _lost_ the sound is.

 

The pounding inside my skull returns tenfold.

 

Then in the next instant, familiar magic tingles in the air, calling a tiny fraction of the fade to morph into a small pocket in this waking world. The smell of sulphur, acid, sweet peaches and lemonade wafts through my nostrils, then just as suddenly, it all vanishes... and so does the spirit.

 

I gnash my teeth as the humans' herald is the one to deflate this time, her small shoulders slumping to the point where she looks like she just shouldered all the burdens of the world.

 

I keep my distance, back still pressed against the exit. I'm grateful for the cold that seeps through, my hand instinctively raising to rest on its leathery surface. I take in her haggard looking state with something akin to a detached sense of obligation. I distantly take note of the fact that she seems to have recovered well enough from the ordeal of having developed a severe hypothermia. Her limbs seem to be working well, and she seems healthy enough to spit illogical fire at my person.

 

After a few moments of her still not looking me in the eyes, I battle the urge to unclench my jaw and speak my mind. It is by the grace of the rational part of my mind that I remain silent. It seems that whatever happened after we left Haven changed the Dalish woman in more ways than one. I the feel rising urge to leave and find a quiet place to think grow more urgent, the pounding in my skull reaching new, almost unbearable heights. This day has been too long, the stomping behind my temples is too distracting, but I quench that impulse, focusing on the fact that I need to remain Solas for her, and for this.. ragtag group of wayward people.

 

 _I am not Fen'harel in this moment_ , my mind reminds me, that one sentence and all that it entails, the only thing truly keeping my mouth, and magic, in check.

 

Suddenly, and seemingly for no reason, the Dalish woman flushes, the colour a bright vermillion on her cheeks, a stark contrast to her too pale skin. She looks down the instant afterwards, and had I been a lesser person, I would have left at this point. Her behavatorial pattern makes no sense to me, too much seems to have changed since I saw her last, and...

 

“ _You fear it. You fear change”_ The words of my only friend and confidant, a spirit of Wisdom, whispers inside my mind.

 

That statement and the tension in the air makes my hackles rise, and I begin feeling like a wolf caught in a trap, an animal in a cage, the walls of the tent seemingly closing in on me. To say that the air has turned frigid and heavy between the human's herald and I, would be a severe understatement.

 

She is the one to break the stifling silence with a small cough.

 

“Uh.. you wanted to talk to me?”

 

My ears slightly ring from the shrillness of the words at the end of the sentence and I loathe the fact that I am unable to stop the apparent wince that follows, balling the leather of the tent flap in my free hand.

 

 _Now_ she wishes to discuss what I came here in the first place to speak about? _Now_ she feels it is the right time to return to that subject?

 

After all the strange, out of character behaviour she's exibited so far, I am floored, absolutely floored. What is her ulterior motive here? Is she trying to throw me off track somehow by acting so out of character? What for? Do I need to re-asses her value? Is there something here I have not been shown, or has she truly changed? If so, what changed and why? Did the anchor make the change?

 

 _You're not Fen'harel right now,_ my mind vehemently presses, and so I push that train of thoughts away with iron will, even though my temples seems to want to explode and drown me in misery at this point.

 

I need to focus.

 

It could just be a fluke due to her earlier weakened state, some sort of trauma causing the radical change in behaviour, or it might be because of what she witnessed at Haven, might be a delayed reaction to the burial of such a place or even the deaths that occurred there. I know she spoke of the place very fondly, know her dreams have been saturated with the small cottages and smoke rising from that foul smelling place. It was without a doubt, dear to her and I still remember the way she left us all to rush outside with tears in her eyes.. to make, what I believe she thought was, a noble sacrifice that would save the inhabitants of that place. I myself am lucky to have made it out alive, in fact all of us who made it here alive, were lucky. 

 

 _We all have a part to play,_  someone once told me, and I suppose this proves her statement correct.

 

Perhaps I am simply being too rash in my assumptions, this young woman in front of me has behaved irrationally before to my knowledge, childish at times even, and so I might be reading too much into it. Not to mention she's always seemed inclined to treat everyone, including the compassionate spirit she now called _brother_ , in an entirely strange, inapropriate, unabashed way.. though what's truly perpexing is that she's never outright treated me like an enemy before, never once tried to keep _my_ aura, or  _my_ magic away from anyone. I thought I was nurturing some resemblance of trust within her, but perhaps that was simply my pride speaking?  

 

And what of her displaying a magical aptitude on an unfamiliar frequensy? It boggles my mind that the young Dalish never exhibited any signs of being a magic wielder before the burial of Haven.. and that her magic manifested itself subconciously and this late in her life? Is a riddle, a puzzle, and for once, I think I am not going to enjoy finding all the pieces and putting them into a coherent whole. I am getting much too oldfor such a ... game.

 

I keep stating I'm not Fen'harel in this moment, I keep reminding myself that I am _Solas_ right now.. so why do I feel like I am turning more and more _back_ _into_ _him_ with each passing day?

 

 _Speak,_ my mind whispers, and I am brought out of my reverie by that single word.

 

“Yes, I was tasked by seeker Cassandra to check on your state of being, and I wished to ask for a moment of your time, but...” I can't help but rigidly, or perhaps the word is weakly, gesture at the spot she and the spirit previously occupied.

 

My hand unclench at the tent's exit, and I slightly raise it the next instant, unable to fully decide whether I should finally leave or stay. I have a lot of my mind, a lot to ponder, a lot to sift through, analyse and organise, I need time to think. 

 

My jaw clench in response as I breathe through the nose.

 

She makes the decision for me by randomly shaking her head.

 

“I.. uh" she hesitantly reply and I watch her throat work the spit down, "don't know why you freaked out and magicked Cole, but I swear we weren't doing anything, I mean I know you're all protective of spirits and stuff, but Cole's not a spirit, well I mean he is but he's also human being and all we did was sharing body heat and...”

 

 _'Magicked Cole'. “_ Magicked”? I have not heard such a term for magic being used before, but seeing how she's never been a mage prior to today, I can see how such a word might be befitting of one in her... state. I have never dealt with youth that suddenly grew an aptitude to magic this late in their life before, and so I have no clue as to how I was supposed to handle this situation. She will need a tutor, a teacher to guide her ways and..

 

_I need to think._

 

This is all so very overwhelming. I want to open my mouth and tell her so, and had I been Fen’Harel and she one of my agents, I might have given in to my impulses and simply left, but... I have no idea how _this young woman_  would handle the situation if I did speak my mind and then left. Not to mention that thanks to a trick of the fates, she is ranked above me. I need to stop forgetting that fact, and act accordingly. It does not become one such as I to act on a whim. I ought to know better.

 

I exhale through the nose, the sound betraying my annoyance, my exasperation.

 

I make up my mind.

 

I will leave and take a breather, stroll for a bit, ponder this day, analyse these new.. revelations. It's been a long day, far too long, far too.. taxing. My mana supply is a constant reminder of that fact.

 

_I need to think._

 

But I'm given no time to do anything closely resembling leaving as the camp's resident seeker suddenly opens the tent flap, and stomps into the cramped space.

 

Perplexing as humans and the dwellers of this strange land are, instead of speaking, the woman simply stares at the two of us, her jaw going as slack as her eyes go round. The human warrior woman then flushes, sputters out a few nonsensical words, then shakes her head and narrows her eyes, all seemingly within the same motion. It is bordering on ridiculous how quickly the inhabitants of this world shift between their emotions and display them all for the world to see.

 

_I'll never get used to this rapid change of pace._

 

“H-herald, you... Maker, you shouldn't be alone with a man, and if you're up on your feet then we need you outside, Cullen and the rest can't decide on...”

 

So that is why the human barged into the tent without asking for permission. It was not to give me an earful for being here, or to ask how the herald fares, both of which are the reasons she asked me to visit in the first place.

 

_Will women never cease to be perplexing?_

 

“Oh god, Cassandra, I'm not ** **...**** " the young Dalish seems to be the one to struggle then, her almond shaped orbs suddenly searching mine as if all her answers dwell within their depths.

 

I blink, forcing my gaze to turn level, betraying nothing of the blazing headache behind.

 

"I mean yes, I __was_ _ alone with Cole” She continues, voice growing shrill, ”but I was only sharing body heat with him, I'm not a kid and I mean he's a spirit so he's technically not a man, I mean he __is_ _ , but not a man-man so...”

 

_What?_

 

“You... shared body heat with.. Th-that's... “ the warrior sputters out in response, gesturing wildly with her armoured hands, eyes seeking mine as well, but I turn my gaze away, staring up into the ceiling instead.

 

She and the spirit... in _that way..._ I can't even...

 

“IT'S NOT LIKE I HAD SEX WITH HIM OR ANYTHING!” She suddenly shouts, effectively short circuiting any sort of thoughts.

 

I can honestly say that for the first time since I remember, my mind goes  _completely_ blank.

 

I stutter out a string of curse words in my native tongue in reaction, the filter between my mouth and brain all but obliterated. Both the seeker and I simultainously take a step backwards but our movements are jerky, uneven.

 

I can feel a burning heat spreading from my cheeks to my ears, but I am too stunned, too far gone in the throes of pure unadulterated _shock_ , to truly register it.

 


	33. Social awkwardness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my GOD! I've been absent for SO LONG! I am SO SORRY! *bows over and over again* There's been IRL trouble, but the most prevalent issue was ... well, there's been a case of plagiarism on this fic, and it was so disheartening my muse went to hide in a corner, and cried its heart out instead of showering me with creative goodness.  
> I hope this isn't going to be the end of it, because I have SO MUCH more to show you guys, and we're JUST about to get to the FLUFF and potential SMUT, so I really don't WANT to end SIBTG here! 
> 
> Comments help, kudos are awesome and bookmarks are a dream come true <3 
> 
> I love you all my dear readers, I really do. Without your support, I'd NEVER even try to get my mojo back again <3 Thank you <3

It isn't until Solas visibly stumbles backwards, in complete sync with Cassandra, that you realise just _what_ you  **blurted** out.

 

A lump forms at the back of your throat, your heart races inside your chest as heat rises to your cheeks, skin suddenly burning to the point where even the tip of your ears seems to have caught on fire. All of a sudden the tent seems that much more cramped, and your lungs seem to find it hard to expand.

 

_You're... there's not even a word for it._

 

“A-anyway!” You manage to get out in a tone of voice that sounds so shrill, even you wince.

 

You watch in dawning horror as the seeker and Solas both seem to stare at you in something akin to mortified silence.

 

“I-I n-n-n-need to r-rest now, I mean!” You proceed to say, practically feeling the way your eyes have gone round, knowing without a doubt that you must look like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

 

_You've been resting a lot already._

 

**Shut up!**

 

You need time to think, possibly hide under your covers for the rest of this _miserable_ existence. Right now, you feel perfectly content to hide away from the world until you figure out a way to get home, preferably never meet nor talk to these two ever again.

 

This whole situation is just...

 

_Mortifying? Ridiculous? Awkward?_

 

**Shut up already!**

 

“Yes, that would probably...”

 

“Of course, Herald, we...” The two of them blurt out at the same time, quickly turning around in eerie sync, almost knocking into one another in their haste to get out of the tent.

 

Your heart is drumming in your ears at this point, furious beat drowning out their hasty exit. You're fighting for each intake of breath, legs feeling like that Jell-o you used to devour during Christmas.

 

With a small, choked noise, you slump to the ground with a relief so great, tears starts forming in your eyes.

 

What in Christ's name _just_ _happened_?

 

Focusing on your breathing pattern, you draw your legs up against your chest. Then you reach out, fumbling a bit to pick up your discarded cover, draping it around yourself like a cloak, covering even your head.

 

Trying to inhale and exhale past the images of two mortified Dragon Age characters, one of whom you _have had a serious crush on for years_ , you focus on thinking past said images for a while, nothing but raging heartbeats keeping you company in the darkness.

 

Well, that was...

 

 _An utter and complete disaster! What were you thinking blurting out like an idiot that you didn't have_ _**sex** _ _with Cole in front of a seeker and an old Elvhen god?! What the hell is wrong with you?_

 

**Shut. The. Fuck. up!**

 

You've begun to hyperventilate at this point, and you don't know how much more of this internal bashing you can take despite recently having been comforted by Cole.

 

_Just imagine what they must think of you._

 

You let out a small noise at that, burrowing your head further into the small space between your knees. A lot of degrading words comes to mind.

 

_Exactly._

 

Your stomach churns in protest as the event of you practically screaming at your companions that you didn't have sex with Cole keeps replaying in your mind with perfect clarity.

 

_Breathe._

 

Why in Christ's name did someone like _you_ end up as _the_   _inquisitor?_ How had such an impossible thing even happened in the first place? Of all the people in the world.. why choose  _you?_ And why couldn't the rules of a Mary Sue fanfiction have been applied to this version, or save, of the gameworld you ended up in? You being a Mary Sue would've made things _so incredibly much_ easier!

 

Thinking back of everything you've been through, all the impossibilites that led you here, you note that you're still no closer to any sort of logical conclusion or answer to any of those questions. The only things you know for certain are that you seem to be stuck here, shoved into new bodies regularly, and the same rules that applies to the Thedosians, applies to you as well.

 

You refuse to dwell upon the more philosofical aspect of it all, and that is to wonder where the original inhabitant of the body you're currently occupying went.

 

You shudder at that train of thought, quickly pushing it away, hands clutching at the warm fur.

 

_Breathe._

 

You need to focus on the facts that you're _still_ stuck inside a bloody _video_ _game_ with no visible way out and how to survive such an ordeal.

 

**By hiding in this tent for the rest of the time?**

 

_...._

 

You gnaw on your lower lip until it tastes of copper, focusing on thinking past the crystalline clear image of Cassandra and Solas' mortified faces staring at you. You are not Thedosian, that much is clear, and that cultural difference  _s_ _hows._  It is impossible to think of yourself as one of  _them,_  a leader, someone who'll inspire a lot of people from all races across this bloody fantasyland.  It's still a bitter pill to swallow, that these people you only know from behind a computer screen are walking, talking,  _thinking,_  people.

 

How is this even going to work? You've never been one who work well under pressure or coercion, though if there is one thing this imaginary world has taught you, then it is that you knew **nothing** of _real_ pressure prior to ending up stuck here.

 

 _Everything_  in Thedas seems to want you dead in some way or the other... and it's all so  _ **real**_ _._

 

You shudder suddenly, world tilting despite the darkness you're draped in.

 

_What's the point to all this?  Why are you here? And why won't you accept that you, at least for the moment, belong their world?_

 

Because if you do, everything will come crashing down, the very foundation of the ground, collapse.

 

_Isn't that a tad bit dramatic?_

 

**Shut up already!**

 

You need an anchor.

 

_Cole._

 

A pang in your chest follows, and you wonder, not for the first time today, where he went. Thinking of the way the spirit-turned-man comforted you, held you, you being to notice a hollowness, a void you didn't know existed within the depths of your being.

 

You've never confided in anyone before. Not that you truly did with Cole either, but you have a feeling he read it all in your mind, felt your every emotion... and yet he still chose to comfort you, soothe you, _shelter you,_ from the outside world and all its troubles for a while.

 

No one has ever done that before.

 

_Your mum used to._

 

**A very long time ago.**

 

Suddenly you feel old. Worn out.

 

_Lonely._

 

Resisting the urge to bang your head against something so sleep'll come faster, anything so you don't have to be who you are and deal with it all, you zero in on the darkness inside of the cover.

 

You never thought you'd be missing Earth. It feels completely  _alien_ to miss a place you never felt was your home.

 

 _You're homesick._ And terribly so. You _crave_  to be back where everything makes sense, and you're just... you. A place where the most complicated thing that could happen is your laptop giving up or your cat barfing on your bed.

 

 _Oh, and you're probably so fired at this point. Your boss'll_ kill _you when you get back._

 

You groan at that.

 

_**If** you get back, that is._

 

You curl further into yourself, completely disregarding the fact that the air inside the cover have turned stale.

 

Does time work differently in Thedas?

 

_Most likely not._

 

You press your head further between your knees.

 


	34. Realisations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... uh, I just can't stop myself from posting this chapter early, your comments fed my muse to the brim with creativity!
> 
> Also, I kinda realised my previous chapter was something of a filler, which isn't all that great, so.. 
> 
> All your awesome, epic, über comments made this chapter possible, so without further ado - happy reading!!!

Suddenly realising the air within the covers have turned too stale to breathe properly, you lower the cover from your head, sneaking a peek at the tent's opening.

 

 _What are you going to tell your boss_ if _you do manage to get home and it turns out you've been absent a very long time?_

 

**…**

 

You really have no idea, and it's not like you could tell him that you ended up stuck inside a video game world that doesn't have any sort of technology so you couldn't call in sick.

 

Yeah, no, you'd pretty quickly end up with a one way ticket to the psycward or worse.

 

 _Does it really matter? You're still_ stuck _here with_ no _solution as to how you can get back home._

 

You unfurl your legs with a sigh, shivering slightly as a strong gust of wind shakes the tent's sides, a whistling noise following. The logs holding the tent together creaks and groans in protest.

 

You sink to your back then, cocooning yourself in the cover, relieved the furs you've been provided with are warm enough to keep the freezing air at bay. Shuddering from the memories of trudging through endless snow along with almost drowning in a furious flurry of snowflakes, you close your eyes, allowing your senses to be overtaken by your sudden fatigue. The last thought in your mind before darkness engulfs everything, is of Cole and how royally pissed your boss is going to be if Thedas' time works the same as Earth's does.

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

The door is smooth to the touch, wooden, the colour of dark chocolate, elegant yet modern in its design. Above the door hangs a white sign stating “OPEN” with black, capital letters.

 

Yawning, you look down at your wristwatch, instantly realising that you are _very_ late for work. Shift starts in five minutes, and you haven't even changed or done your hair.

 

Dashing inside despite time working against you, you try to look as dignified as one can when running towards the staff area. Opening the flat, unassuming door which says “Restricted area – staff members only”, you speed over to your locker. More or less punching your numeric code into the lock, you pull the small door open with force. It opens silently, and with practised efficiency, you quickly change clothes, even managing to neatly beat your unruly bangs into obedience, all in all just below four minutes.

 

Heart racing at the breakneck speed, you instinctively look up at the white and black clock ticking ominously above the lockers. One minute to go before your shift starts, meaning you have no time to look at whom you're sharing it with. Your boss'll kill you if you don't show up on time, so you waste no more time idling, heading outside with long strides. Once outside, you school your features into a relaxed stance, face displaying nothing but a friendly smile along with half lidded eyes.

 

Brushing off some invisible specks of dust on your apron, you walk over to the small opening leading to the service area behind the café's counter. You begin with a routine check of the cafés coffee machine. Fixing said piece of equipment is always something of a hassle, it tends to make people such as yourself having to work to actually recieve the coffee. Today, however, the machine is unusually obedient, and you manage to get a cup of steaming liquid on your first try.

 

Blinking at your luck, you put your cup next to the machine, discreetly checking both sides of the area behind the counter, wondering idly why there is no one but you here. Either you work your shifts with Sarah or you do them with Ashley, but you can't seem to find any of them.

 

If they had called in sick, surely your boss would've been here to cover in their absence?

 

Blinking at the oddity of the situation, you sure hope your boss have called for back-up if _both_ of them had called in sick, you can't be expected to run the café on your own!

 

However, time goes on, and no costumer enters the café. You glance at the time on your wristwatch, and it boggles your mind that no one's showed up so far. Taking a steo back, you discreetly reach for the telephone at the back of the place. It slides off its hilt easily enough, but that's when you realise the numbers that are supposed to be hanging there on a post-it, aren't.

 

Frowning, you reach into your left pocket where you keep your cellphone hidden... only to realise it isn't there. Your eyes go round at that, you _always_ keep it there. What if your boss had called, and you haven't answered? A lance of cold panic surges through your being as your hands starts perspiring and slightly shake. You've forgotten your phone before, but then you'd only borrow Ashley or Sarah's.. and they're not here.

 

Seriously, had you managed to forget your _only_ phone at home on the same day the post-it with all the important numbers were gone? You can't work the shift alone, there is just no way...

 

The silence is suddenly broken as the front door opens, the bell on the inside signaling a customer arriving. Mind instantly switching to service mode, you smile widely, and look up, tucking your insecurities at the back of your mind.

 

“Welcome, what can I get you?”

 

Your standard opening phrase is followed by a soft, feminine chuckle, and it takes but a second to realise the voice seems familiar.. but you can't place it.

 

”Thank you child, for the welcome”

 

You blink at the strange reply, glancing through your eyelashes at the customer who doesn't even seem to look at the menu above your head. She seems to be looking straight at _you._

 

You blink, and though her voice certainly seemed familiar, her face, does not. You rummage through your memory, realising it is hard to even gather enough willpower to properly think.

 

Trying to forcefully break through the haze that seems to shield you from proper thought, you observe her slender form. She looks unassuming enough even though her outfit is.. unique to be worn by someone who looks like she's a couple of years above middle aged. A pair of long, dark brown sleeves arms hangs loose by the sides, and her body language is relaxed even though she keeps looking at you. Somehow... something seems off about her.

 

_Maybe you should ask her one more time what she wants to order?_

 

Then it hits you.

 

Her eyes are glowing.

 

_What the actual...?_

 

A lance of fear breaks past the mental wall, creating a metaphorical hole in the mist that seemed to have shielded your thought process from your concious mind. The instant it is penetrated, the interior café seems wobbles, tables and chairs turn ethereal, windows and walls all blurs together.

 

Your eyes goes round at that, jaw going slack as everything seems to turn solid once more. Your heart leap into your throat as you take a step backwards, back hitting the familiar surface of the coffee machine. It's solid.

 

_What the hell is going on here?!_

 

”Worry not, child, I mean neither you nor this place any harm.” The woman says before her _entire_ _body_ starts glowing a soft tone of light.

 

Suddenly you can't seem to remember how to properly draw breath. You gulp like fish, gripping the sides of the coffee machine, nails digging into the wooden furniture it stands on.

 

“I am wisdom” She continues, seemingly unpertubed by your behaviour, “I am what they call a spirit, and I did not venture into this place uninvited” She ends with a small gesture of the entirety of the café with a dainty looking hand.

 

As she does, it _all_ comes rushing back to you with the force of a mighty, all consuming avalanche. Suddenly you're flooded with _everything._

 

You fall forward, using the counter to not fall flat on your face, steadying yourself as you ride out the seemingly endless waves of memories, voices, places, events, all of which are trying to drag you under and keep you down.

 

 _How could you have forgotten about Wisdom, Solas' spirit friend?_ Your internal voice practically screams through the garbled mess of memories, sounds, sensations. It's almost a sensory overload, as you bite your lower lip hard enough to know there logically should be blood spilling forth, trying your hardest to stem the tide instead of being swept along with it.

 

How could you, even for a second, have believed that you were back home? How could you, even for a second, believe that you somehow, 'magically' escaped the nightmare some cosmic power thought it hilarious throwing you into?

 

You feel the sting of tears burning behind your eyelids as your eyes lock with Wisdom's, half expecting everything to turn wobbly in your far perpheal vision once more. It does not.

 

_How could you not have noticed the eerie silence of the outside world?_

 

This café was as familiar to you as your own apartment, how could you have missed such an important clue?

 

**Don't know.**

 

You swallow at that, turning around to grab a hold of the coffee you made earlier, gulping down its steaming contents without feeling anything, no texture, no taste... nothing. You grip the mug, wondering if it would shatter if you dropped it.

 

This place is not real. More unreal than Thedas itself, you suppose. Which means that this is all.. in your mind, in a way?

 

_Isn't that how the fade supposedly work according to official Dragon Age lore?_

 

Your legs suddenly give in, everything starts to spin, the viper in your gut roars to life, writhing, hissing, clawing at the insides of your stomach.

 

_Ah that explains it. You're in the fade._

 

You fall to the side from that revelation, dropping the mug which simply _vanishes,_ one hand shooting out to catch yourself from crashing onto the white and black tiled floor.

 

How many more shocks must you deal with before this is all over? It is with something akin to muted horror you watch in your far peripheal vision as the interior of the café once more blurs together, chairs and tables vanishing before appearing again as you look directly at them.

 

_This isn't real, nothing here is real, more unreal than Thedas itself._

 

 _ **How?**_ How the hell could _**you,**_ a citizen of Planet Earth, end up in _**the**_ **actual** _ **fade**_ _?!_

 

You're not a citizen of this video game fantasy, and as far as you're concerned, only Thedosian mages or Somniari dream themselves into the fade because the fade isn't really-real and the rules of this place beyond the veil don't apply to everyone else.  **You** being _in the fade_ makes **no** sense!

 

This fantasyscape is a part of a _video game_ , how could you even.. The snake inside your guts writhes in response, and you exhale through your nose to cope with the wave of nausea that follows. Why is there an existing piece of furnture that feels so real to the touch here in this Thedosian dreamland, a place even the citizens of Thedas thinks is unreal?

 

You grip the counter even harder, heaving yourself to a pair of unsteady feet.

 

If you had ended up dreaming of yourself in your apartment...

 

_No. Just breathe._

 

You seriously need to get back home, before something inside breaks... again.

 

_Think of something else. There has to be some sort of logical, rational conclusion to you being in the fade._

 

Well, according to official lore released from Bioware, mages in Thedas dream vividly, and maybe 'dreaming vidivdly' means everything one touches in the fade will feel real, even when it's not.

 

_Though, you're not Thedosian so you can't exactly answer that, now can you?_

 

What if you're a Somniari?

 

You swallow at that, heart pounding in your ears.

 

_Then you could change the very fade itself, perhaps morph it somehow, maybe imagine a portal taking you home and actually end up back home? Maybe you should try to..._

 

 **No!** You mentally exclaim, effectively cutting off that particular train of thought.

 

There is absolutely no way you're going to meddle with things you don't understand. Besides, what if you attracted demons or something worse like the gigantic spider from hell that your inquisitor meets in the middle of the game? You shudder at the memory of playing through that part. You'd probably soil yourself if you ever met Nightmare in 'real' life.

 

_You have just had it with things that makes no sense!_

 

”Forgive me if I startled you, young one, that was not my intention” Wisdom suddenly speaks, effectively bringing you back from the verge of panic.

 

Her words are softly spoken in a soothing, wispy sort of tone. She seems content to remain standing, long sleeved arms still hanging loose at the sides. The spirit's still glowing though, and you can't help but avert your eyes from such proof of otherworldliness.

 

_Definitely had enough of things that makes no sense._

 

Wisdom suddenly takes a step backwards then, gesturing towards one of the small, round tables dotting the interior of the café. You watch her left hand twitch as she takes a silent, graceful step forward.

 

“I would love a slice of any sort of sweet cake” She speaks, and it makes you look up, relief following such a normal statement.

 

It almost makes everything feel normal again.

 

_Almost._

 

“And if would you be so kind as to show me which seat I may sit on, I would be very grateful, dah'len”

 

 _Nothing like job mode to keep the thoughts at bay,_ you think as you snap out of your reverie, nodding, stiffly heading over to the other side to show your 'customer' to a vacant table. Not that you need to look for one, they're _all_ empty.

 

You push past the unease the eerie silence creates, but with manners perfected from years of work, you manage to not let it show, guiding Wisdom to a table with a smile still plastered on your face.

 

You remain standing by said table, a pen and paper 'magically' appearing in each hand.

 

**Nothing here makes any sense.**

 

_Stop thinking about it._

 

You exhale at that, letting the spirit familiarize herself with her chair, moving around on the piece of furniture as a small child who can't seem to find a comfortable position. Suddenly her glowing eyes meet yours and your legs root on the spot.

 

“ _Dhama, Dah'len.”_ She softly speaks, gesturing to the empty chair across from her own, long sleeves billowing with the motion.

 

For some unfathomable reason you understand that small bit of Elven, legs moving on autopilot, your behind plopping unceremouniously down on the chair she wished you to occupy.

 

The pen and paper just as magically as they appeared, vanish. 

 

You swallow at that, resisting the urge to gnaw on your lower lip.

 

Instead you fiddle with the hem of your working attire, realising that you don't know what you're supposed to do or say. Guiding Wisdom to her seat is familiar, taking a customer's order is familiar... Finding a suitable topic to talk about with a spirit, a spirit of Wisdom no less, is not.

 

You have like a thousand questions at this point, but you can't seem to know where to start, or which questions you dare asking.

 

_And what would happen if Solas finds out you've been talking to his favourite spirit?_

 

Not that you believe the spirit herself would tattle on you, but.. she is, like every other denizen of the fade,  _bound_ to this plane of existence, and Solas _is_ a bloody Somniari. The fade is practically his playground and if he found out or heard about this place, your workplace, a modern café... then he might turn suspicious, or outright realise that you're not a part of the world he lives in. So what topics are safe to talk about?

 

_That social awkwardness of yours is showing._

 

**Shut up!**

 

Suddenly, the café's trademark menu appears in your right hand. Realising you've missed such an important part of your customer service, you stand up so quickly the chair falls backwards. Hurrying over to her place, you practically, in spite of all of your years of experience, thrusts the menu in Wisdom's face.

 

“T-the m-menu. Here. So you can order!”

 

_Sigh._

 

If the seemingly calm spirit of Wisdom am offended by your brash behaviour, she does not let it show, merely gracefully reaching out with a pair of dainty hands to accept your offering. As one of her faintly glowing hands brush against yours... it is like a supernova _**explodes** _ inside your mind.

 

_A spike of sudden terror shoots up from your subconciousness and coils in your stomach as Fen'harel's razor sharp teeth hovers inches above exposed, vulnerable skin._

 

“ _Na din'an sahlin”_

 

_Not understanding, and the instant you open your mouth to ask him to translate, the wolf's eight crimson eyes simultainously blink and his enormous jaws snaps shut._

 

You stumble, legs giving in from the force of the memory, unable to brace yourself for the fall before another roars to the surface.

 

_You can barely draw breath at this point, your speeding heart thundering in your ears as you fight to stay awake. Your arms and hands are warm, heavy, wet and cold. And then not._

 

Every limb spasms, your breath wheezes as you gasp for air like a fish on dry land.

 

_This is not how you pictured choking on your own blood would feel like._

 

_It's ten times worse._

 

“ _Just a little longer, prisoner, hold on!” Comes Cassandra's voice from somewhere far away followed by a string of curses._

 

_You feebly try to hold up your hands in acquiescence, but both appendages have gone numb and unresponsive, limbs of dead flesh that dangle at Cassandra's side._

 

All of a sudden there is a sharp lance of pain slicing up the arm, tearing you out of the memory. You clutch at the adjourning wrist in response, nails digging, no carving, into the skin, _anything to make it stop._ You can't seem to stop shouting, writhing upon the table, unable to cope with the unadulterated **agony** that seems to wrack every nerve-end of your tormented body.

 

Everything has blurred together, Wisdom's presence is nowhere to be found and the very world around you is hazy, the colours  _distorted_.

 

As the pain reaches its peak, the world explodes in a supernova of green, catapulting you into oblivion.

 

 _So that's why you keep changing bodies_ , something whispers as you melt away.

 

 

 _**You died.** _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Still no beta - all errors are my own] So if you want to be my Beta, which means you'll get to preview the chapter long before it's posted, let me know in the comments below! <3


	35. Big badda boom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... I did a boo-boo because IRL did a boo-boo on me, BUT I'M BACK (haaaa :')) and I've got an amazing BETA now who helped me with this chapter to make it all glow-y and shine-y! :D Go check her out, she's soooo kind, funny and generally awesome!
> 
> drmsqnc.tumblr.com  
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/drmsqnc/profile

You are jolted awake into a world that is blinding in its intensity. With an agonised cry, you reach out and grab a hold of your left wrist, nails digging into the skin, unable to stop hollering at the top of your lungs. Hot, searing pain slices up your arm as you thrash about, begging, babbling, _praying_ to Jesus Christ for the pain to just _stop,_ anything!

 

Your surroundings seem distorted as you thrash around, everything swimming in a haze of nothing but a mess of blurry images, colours that makes no sense, smells you have no name for, an unknown pressure from within clamouring for recognition. You feel something writhing, seething, _building_ at the bottom of your gut, and its all but ready to burst out. Unable to withstand the torment, you shout hoarsely, instinctively reaching out. 

 

“ **STOP**!”

 

The instant the word leaves your lips, the pressure at the pit of your gut surges forth, a supernova of green bursting out the anchor with a deafening boom. You are hurtled backwards from the enormous force of it, and the edges of your vision blur as your back slams into something rough, and very, _very_ solid _._ The air is knocked out of your lungs and your mouth opens in reflex, eyes watering from the impact. Dazed, you feebly try to combat the bile that threatens to follow, forcing your eyes open as you cough, gazing with something akin to muted horror at the giant, gaping hole _you_ just created.

 

The more time passes, the less you seem to be able to come to terms with the fact that it was _you_ who caused such destruction. You, a real citizen of planet Earth just used magic... Real, or as real as can be _,_ **magic**.   

 

_How is that even possible?_

 

You are given no time for such an alien notion to sink in as a glowing Cullen suddenly appears in your line of vision. In the split of a second, the very air is knocked right out of your lungs once again, limbs simultaneously turning into useless lumps of flesh devoid of any kind of feeling or strength.

Gaping like a fish on dry land, you slump forward like a puppet with its strings cut, eyes going owlishly round as you look up at the future general of the inquisition. A choked noise later, some bile leaves your mouth to dribble onto the ruined remains of the tent's ground, lungs working desperately to draw air. Back pain all but forgotten, your right hand leaves the ground to clutch at your chest, every frantic heartbeat a stark reminder that your lungs are hollow, empty, _unmoving._

 

( _This is not how you pictured choking on your own blood would feel like._

_It's ten times worse._

“ _Just a little longer, prisoner, hold on!” Comes Cassandra's voice from somewhere far away followed by a string of curses._

  _You feebly try to hold up your hands in acquiescence, but both appendages have gone numb and unresponsive, limbs of dead flesh that dangle at Cassandra's side._ ) 

 

You manage another choked noise as you instinctively try to edge backwards, resulting in you instead falling flat on your face, limbs sprawled in seemingly impossible angles, tears burning behind your eyelids as you mutedly stare up at the out of character Thedosian. Your back and chest convulses painfully from the lack of air as a single tear leaves your left eye to roll down your cheek.

 

_What in Christ's name is going on here?_

 

What's wrong with this game, what's wrong with these people, what's wrong with... all of this? Why do people keep acting so unalike what they are supposed to do? Why does everything cause you pain or try to hurt you in this version? Where did it all go wrong? You're the inquisitor, aren't you, so why are people treating you like you're the bloody villain?!

 

_At least it can't possibly get any worse._

 

As if to mock that statement, Cassandra suddenly also appears in your line of sight, and with her the halo around Cullen seems to die down.

 

Black dots at the edges of your vision, you finally seem to regain some measure of ability to breathe, desperately gulping down as much air as possible while staring at the two veteran warriors. You have no idea what to think.

 

_First you use magic, then Cullen appears and uses..._

 

Your eyes snap to his as another realisation dawns on you.

 

Jesus Christ, but this has happened to you once before when Cassandra glowed, along with this utter lack of strength in all limbs, the air being knocked out of your lungs; it has _all happened_ before!

 

_They used smite on you._

 

Of course. In hindsight, perhaps you should have realised sooner. Both times happened after the anchor acted up as well. Either the inquisitor whose body you're... occupying? Borrowing? Inhabiting? Did something to warrant their distrust, or _..._

 

_Well, you do know both a Templar's way of viewing magic, and Cassandra's which essentially is the same as any other seeker’s. Considering just how large that hole you just created is, perhaps their smite was warranted. It’s not like you have any theoretical or practical knowledge of how to use something as alien as ‘magic’._

 

You chew on your lower lip at that. You have never wanted to be back home so badly before.

 

_Right. Not like you've said that a lot of times already._

 

**Shut. Up!**

 

You're brought out of your inner monologue by Cullen making a small movement towards you. With an involuntarily hiss, you shrink back, noticing that he tracks your movements with furrowed brows, right hand slightly twitching above his sheathed sword, lips kept in a firm, straight line.

 

You inhale sharply as the former Templar takes another step, this time to the right, crossing his arms, exhaling what sounds like a mix between a sigh and a groan. A blonde curl fall down his face, slightly oily, an unbrushed strand which seems to stick to his facial stubble.

 

Cassandra's eyes stray to Cullen's before turning to yours. Her brow furrows as deeply as Cullen's as you gauge the two future inquisition members. Considering the fact that you were just smited, you have no idea how the seeker is going to treat you. You will never forget how she threatened you with her sword against your throat in… another playthrough.

 

Shuddering and letting out a small cough, you focus intently on the vein on Cassandra's forehead looking just about ready to burst. As the air grows heavy with tension, pregnant with awkwardness that has your mouth going dry, the seeker opens her mouth, only to close it again. The same instant, you feel something warm trickle out your right nostril. Your hand reflexively goes to the nose, wiping at it. The back of your hand comes back dark red, and before you have a chance to react to that, Leliana also appears.

 

With another stroke of the back of your hand, you wipe the blood away to the best of your ability. Mind still reeling from it all, heart continuing its frantic race within your chest, you watch as the rogue walks over to you. With a graceful movement, she crouches down, eyes glittering within the depths of her hood.

 

Every limb seems to freeze as the rogue reaches out a gloved hand towards your face. Fighting the fight or flight response such a foreign behaviour creates, you flinch but reluctantly allow the hand to make its way from your face, down to your back. You flinch once more, this time more visibly as the former bard starts rubbing circles across your back with firm, determined strokes.

 

 _Now that we're lucid again, perhaps you should take the time to consider just what you did? The sheer amount of destruction_ you _just caused?_

 

Brain kicking into high gear with the proper amount of oxygen finally flowing freely to it, you look away from the future spymistress to gaze upon all of your future companions. Their brows remain furrowed, lips set in straight, thin lines, arms crossed, postures stiff, bordering on statue-like.

 

_Did your burst of magic.. injure anyone? That has to be the only explanation to their… strange behaviour._

 

Your jaw goes slack as you realise that yes, you might actually have hurt people, your eyes flicking back and forth between the three Thedosians. The rubbing continues as you stare at the three, praying to all that is holy, that you have not. NPCs or not... there were children outside and..

 

With a growing sense of horror, your lower lip starts to quiver as you once again stare at Leliana. Despite her seemingly tender ministrations, the future spymistress looks nothing of the sort. Unable to hold her glittering gaze, you lock eyes with the former Templar, questions burning at the back of your throat. Somehow you can't seem to get the words out of your dry, parched mouth. You swallow over and over again, trying to wet it enough to be able to speak, yet all that comes out when you try are small coughs or garbled noises.

 

The rogue doesn't try to stop you when you shrink back from her hand, fear trickling down your back like rivulets of ice as you edge away from all of your future companions.

 

An overwhelming wish to just bolt, to leave and never go back, crashes like a tidal wave over your form,  leftover adrenaline from your earlier ordeal still pulsing within your veins. Your eyes dart to the huge hole your out of control magic caused, pondering the time it would take to dash there and escape camp. Could you make it if you ran fast enough?

 

_No, you wouldn't, and even if you did, where would you go? You almost froze to death just reaching this makeshift camp, and the only one who knows these mountains and where to go, is Solas._

 

You snap back to reality at that, mouth suddenly drier than the Sahara desert.

 

_Solas?_

 

 **Oh hell no. Nope. Nope. Nopenopenope** _…_

 

“Herald, you were...” Cullen suddenly speaks, making you shrink further back.

 

A heavy, guilty feeling rises like a serpent from the depths of your gut, coiling around your heart, fangs sinking into your consciousness. With something akin to desperation, you press your back against a rough log - the only part of the tent still standing.   

 

( _Suddenly the world explodes in a supernova of green, catapulting you into oblivion._

_So that's why you keep changing bodies, something whispers as you melt away._

**_You died_ ** _._ )

 

Oh... You had almost forgotten the revelation that dream brought. The whole reason you keep swapping bodies, is because you keep _dying._ Meaning the concept of dying enough to times to get back home, to reach game over, might be the answer to getting back home.

 

You stare at Cullen's hand still twitching above the sheathed sword and flinch again as Leliana gracefully rises to her feet.

 

_No. There has to be another way. You're.. beyond afraid of death._

 

**Yes.**

 

You gnaw on your lower lip, and shake your head to dispel the images of a funeral you likely never will forget, eyes drifting back to stare at the sheer amount of destruction _you_ were the cause of.

 

_This place is going to make you lose your mind._

 

Just how could _you,_ a modern age woman from planet Earth, have caused so much destruction with nothing but a glowing rune on your _palm?_

 

_This world makes no sense._

 

**Magic makes no sense.**

 

You desperately want to curl in on yourself, go to sleep, run away, anything to escape the three Inquisition members’ stares and the possible consequences of what just happened. Leliana suddenly brings her hand up, taking a graceful step towards you, her eyes never leaving yours.

 

“Cullen,” Leliana addresses the former Templar despite having locked her gaze with yours, her familiar lilt of Orlesian managing to make the word sound both soft and intimidating at the same time. “There is no need for that.”

 

The former Templar takes a small step back in response, clenching his jaw at the same time, but his hand moves away from its hovering position.

 

You notice the future spy-mistress' posture is very tense despite having moved so gracefully, hawk-like eyes unblinking, arms remaining crossed.

 

“Herald. I beg your pardon for Cullen's decision to use his Templar abilities on you, but had this spiralled further out of control...” She makes a small gesture at the still slightly smoking ground, followed by an elegant twist of her right wrist towards the outside. “More people would have gotten injured.”

 

Your jaw drops at that, heart pounding painfully as the serpent in your gut thrashes with guilt to the point where you feel like you might vomit from the sheer amount of it.

 

That's what you were afraid of. Hurting people. NPCs or not, you're immersed enough in this video game to feel like they're real people, and real people meant real lives, real family, children with real mothers, people who counted on them returning home...

 

Why in god’s name did the universe see fit to send _you_ here? All you've ever done since arriving in Thedas, is mess up or end up in a mess. For Christ's sake, you can't even stay alive, and now you've hurt innocent people with something as alien and crazily impossible as _magic_!

 

This place has clearly taken a toll on your sanity, and now, apparently, you're a walking ticking bomb that might detonate at any place, any time. You know nothing of magic, its use, and you have no survival skills. You might hurt these people, and you have no idea how not to.

 

_Why are you even here?_

 

_Why you?_

 

Cassandra had been the one to smite you back then, and now Cullen had. Perhaps it had been  necessary. At least now you have a plausible reason why they are treating you like they are. Might be that they are just as appalled by you and your actions, as you yourself are.

 

_You truly are worthless._

 

Distantly you feel the wetness of tears rolling down your cheeks, small crusts of blood above your lip loosening with each one.

 

“Forgive our rash acting, Lavellan, but you were a danger to yourself, and those in this makeshift camp,” Leliana continues her explanation, gesturing towards Cullen as you silently hick-up. “We couldn't get a hold of Solas, nor Mother Giselle, and many were hit directly by the blast.”

 

“If the enemy didn't know where we were previously, they know now,” Cullen says, and even with your abysmal people skills, you can hear pure unadulterated bitterness coating each word. “Thus the subjugation was warranted,” the future general adds with a stern, positively frosty look your way.

 

You have no clue what to say in defense. If there even is anything to say, because frankly, you were the cause of this destruction and people getting hurt. This… event, the inquisitor losing control over the anchor this early in the game, never happened in the canon events of Dragon age Inquisition, so you have no dialogue options to choose here to help you either.

 

Not knowing what to do with yourself, you swallow, managing to not make a sound despite the way the sobs want to tear free from their prison inside your chest.

 

NPCs or not.. you _hurt_ innocent people.

 

_Perhaps you should instead be thankful none were killed._

 

You lower your head as shame rears its ugly head, balling your hands into fists.

 

“Either way,” Cullen continues, turning to the seeker, hands rising to rub at the sides of his forehead, “she is going to need a tutor, someone to train her to control that magic since sending her to a circle isn’t an option here.” Your heart leaps painfully at that.

 

Both the seeker and Leliana nod, turning their collective gazes onto Cullen.

 

“The Herald is too dangerous to be left alone,” the seeker agrees.

 

_This is why they lock mages up in the towers, same reason they lock people up in real life in mental institutions. Theoretically it’s to help them control themselves, and save them from the danger they pose not only to others, but themselves as well._

 

You hang your head in shame at that.

 

_Well, you just proved all of those theories right. Hope you chose the Templar route in this playthrough, ‘cause you’re going to need that._

 

....

 

_Perhaps you should focus on being thankful to the lord Christ since you have the anchor, otherwise you would’ve been locked up in a circle for the rest of your time here in Thedas._

 

You bite your lower lip at that, and forcefully stifle a sob.

 

“Of course we will delegate a competent guard to protect you to make sure this-” Leliana makes a gesture towards the outside of the tent “-doesn't happen again.”

 

Cullen gnashes his teeth as he turns to glare directly at you, making you squirm beneath his icy gaze.

 

“Preferably a Templar...I will personally make sure the Herald-”

 

All of a sudden the future general is cut short as a shadow materialises in a puff of smoke next to you.   You look up and notice a collective flinch from everyone as a pair of glowing eyes fixate on your now trembling form.

“ _Shards cracking, a mirror falling, falling, a voice in the distance howls but it has no reflection. It wants to go home, but where is that?”_

 

“Cole?” You choke out, the word both a question and a plea.

 

The spirit turned boy slightly tilts his head, glowing eyes unblinking as they take you in. You have no idea if that means he’s reading your mind or simply pondering what to say next, you don’t know his character well enough to say.

 

You find it hard to keep his gaze; it feels like he looks directly into your _soul,_ like he could see _everything_ that you are, and have been, and just _know_ that _you_ are the alien here in Thedas. There seems to be no trace in him of the brother you felt he was to you before. No, this is Cole of Asunder, and you find it sends small, icy chills down your spine. This Cole radiates mystery in a most unsettling way, and you can only pray to God that he does not reveal anything damning to the others about you, or your origin.

 

“What is the meaning of...” The seeker suddenly hisses as the spirit's glowing gaze turns to her first.

 

“They're here.” Cole cuts her off with a tone of voice that brokers no argument, glowing gaze moving secondly to fall upon the seemingly frozen former Templar.

 

“They? Do you mean the El...” Cullen begins.

 

“He's found you,” Cole interrupts, voice deep and serious to the point where you feel a small shudder coming on.

 

The hand stops its descent as he sharply inhales, head snapping to the side as the snow suddenly crunches behind him.

 

“Seeker Pentaghast?” A muffled voice, no one you recognise, suddenly breaks the tension by panting out from behind Cullen.

 

The warrior sets her jaw, but turns as a man dressed in what you recognise as green scout armour from the game, appears. With a slight bow at the waist, the man raises his slightly reddened face to the seeker, gasping for air, right hand shaking on the front of a wooden longbow.

 

“Yes, and who are you?” Cassandra replies through clenched teeth, the trademark vein on her forehead looking just about ready to burst once again.

 

Cole's eyes glitter as his glowing gaze turns to the scout, and you all of a sudden feel like you can breathe properly again. You silently ponder what Cole has gleaned in your mind about you and your origins and knowledge of future events, what he could reveal purposely or accidentally, if you are not careful enough. Considering the fact that you don’t know how this whole mind reading thing works, you can’t really tell.

 

You doubt Cole himself knows of, or understands, the concept of a 'video game', but all the knowledge you possess of future events, even if they've not turned out to be fully accurate, would be dangerous if it ended up revealed to the wrong people. If you hadn’t been afraid of the repercussions of canon events being altered due to your knowledge before, you sure are now.

 

“Forgive me Seeker Pentaghast, my name is Blake, I was sent to bring an urgent message from Ser Solas to you.”

 

Another trickle of dread travels down your spine, along with a strange sense of foreboding.

 

“What did the mage say?” Cullen asks through grit teeth, taking a loud, crunching step forward with his heavily armoured boots.

 

The scout's eyes go slightly round at that, posture instantly straightening, hands behind his back as he slightly parts his legs at the same time. Cole, in turn, seems to melt into the background then, vanishing in his trademark puff of smoke. You notice that Leliana takes note of his disappearance, but the other three don't. You wonder if it has to do with the fact that he’s a rogue, or his special spirit abilities of coming and going unnoticed.

 

You swallow, cough, wishing you had some sort of water bottle available to clear your throat of the gravel that seems to have made its residence there.

 

“S-sir! Ser Solas said that the Elder one and th-their army is closing in on us, he s-said he spotted them near the p-pass.”

 

The spymaster purses her lips, and both Cullen and Cassandra curse simultaneously. The scout flinches, hands fiddling on the surface of the bow.

 

“At ease, Scout Blake,” Cullen speaks through equally grit teeth, and the scout visibly relaxes.

 

Then former Templar turns to Cassandra.

 

“But if the elf mage could see them...that means they can see us, and the pass is not far from the camp.” Cullen turns to Leliana after that, right hand moving from his temple to rest on his sword's sheath. “We need to get our men out of here, relocate to a safer position.”

 

The seeker gnashes her teeth.

 

“There are too many wounded!” She growls, throwing her hands into the air before crossing them again. “We have nowhere to go.”

 

“And not even the best of my agents have been able to wander far before getting caught in a blizzard,” Leliana interjects, face blank if not for the fact that her eyes seems to express a myriad of different emotions.

 

The future general is the one to throw his hands into the air this time, causing the scout to flinch once again, and you to press your back further into the rough surface of the log digging into your back.

 

“What do you suggest then? We can't stay, this position leaves us vulnerable to ambush, the enemy can easily come swooping down on us here. A makeshift camp is not a defensible position: half my men are exhausted from the evacuation, and the other is either injured or unfit for travel!”

 

“The only choice,” The seeker interjects, “is that we divide the forces. Those able to fight stay behind to hold off the army, while the rest stay with the civilians to defend against potential wildlife.” Cassandra gestures each word with her armoured hands.

 

_Sacrifice some for others to live? That’s terrible!_

 

You clench your hands, and bite your lower lip.

 

 _But that’s the reality of these people, the reality in_ Thedas.

 

You barely stifle a sob when the former Templar takes a step towards the warrior.

 

“I am not losing more men to those corrupted monsters,” he spits out, face turning slightly red as he changes course and takes a stomping step towards the rogue. Leliana in turn turns her predatory gaze on him, only changing which football to stand on, arms still crossed, seemingly unfazed, unimpressed.

 

You wipe away the tears on your cheeks as the future spy-mistress cocks her head to the side, battle ready stance reminding you of a tigress ready to pounce. She even licks her lips to look the part.

 

“According to the information I've been given, there is no shelter to be found anywhere near within this mountain range, and the weather is too unstable for safe travel with civilians. Not to mention, we lost more than half our mounts in Haven, and the supplies will not last longer than a couple of days at most.”

 

All eyes suddenly turn to you, and your heart sinks even further.


	36. Fake it until you make it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lookie lookie who has a brand new chapter here for you all to enjoy! :D This chapter is this shiny thanks to my epic BETA who inspired me to write more, improve more, who then put her magic touch on this so you all could enjoy it this quickly. It is also thanks to all of YOU who reads this fic, and enjoys it, I keep updating - YOU keep inspiring me to further the plotline, to write more, to GIVE YOU MORE.  
> We're almost at the point where we'll start seeing some real Solas/OC interactions AND I CAN'T WAIT TO SHOW YOU!
> 
> Don't forget to check out my BETA, she is amazingly kind, smart, and generally awesome! Go check her out at Tumblr or here on Ao3: 
> 
> drmsqnc.tumblr.com  
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/drmsqnc/profile

Cassandra is the one to speak first.

 

”What would _you_ have us do, herald?” she says with something akin to a forlorn expression, right eye slightly twitching as her gaze burrows into yours.

 

_Breathe._

 

”Lavellan,” Leliana interjects, ”you told me your clan roamed close to the Wimmark mountains at one point, surely you have some advice to offer?” Though the rogue's voice is somewhat soft, her face remains utterly blank, posture still stiff.

 

**Me?**

 

_Do you see anyone else here that goes by the name 'Lavellan'?_

 

You realise it _is_ you she's addressing since you _are_ Lavellan here, and she doesn’t your real name. Somehow that feels very wrong, and you instantly feel like you’re never going to get used to anyone calling you by a name that’s not yours.

 

Opening your mouth to reply, you suddenly realise there's nothing you _can_ say because you, personally, have never been anywhere _near_ a real mountain. You shut it again.

 

_Well, shit._

 

What are you supposed to say then? You have no recollection of your inquisitor having a conversation with anyone of where her clan dwelled or roamed, and though you know from googling where the Lavellan clan wandered, you are not _she._ **None** of those things happened to _you,_ you have no prior knowledge of anything remotely relating to taking care of anything larger than a cat.

 

_Worthless._

 

 **I am.** You agree, legs threatening to give out, hands slick with perspiration as you fiddle with the hem of your tunic. You are unable to fully stifle the sob that erupts from the back of your throat, making everyone stare at you.

 

What they need, what Thedas needs, is for the real Lavellan to take over and for you to go back home to your modern day life of isolation and monotony, where your choices don't matter in the larger scope of things. Why did the universe choose to send someone like _you_ here?

 

_So... what are you going to say? Remember, Corypheus is coming, time is of the essence here._

 

Where did it all go wrong? When did the events start to derail from the canon storyline, and what did you do to affect that?

 

_Speak already!_

 

But.. you have no past knowledge from playing the game to lean upon, no dialogue choices to help out, and therefore no clue what the possible consequences of what you say or do might turn out to be! What if you said something that would make things derail even further? What if you caused all of these people to die prematurely? You already injured a lot of them, who's to say your choices or lack thereof, won't outright _kill_ them?

 

You wheeze at that, and suddenly Cullen clears his throat, snapping your mind back to the present. The scout is fiddling with his bow, eyes darting from the future commander to Cassandra's, clearly agitated.

 

_Duh. Corypheus is coming, and you're standing here like a silent loon with a kicked puppy expression._

 

You swallow, lowering your gaze, silent sobs still making your chest heave at the way the scout's upper teeth sink into the lower half of his thin lips as he turns to Cassandra once again. You press yourself further into the rough log, wishing with all your being that you could simply fall over and die.. since that is apparently the only way to escape and start out fresh.

 

_Yeah, because swapping bodies all the time has worked so well up until this point._

 

An image of Fen'harel with eight glowing eyes appears, and you almost choke on a sob.

 

**Shut. Up. Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!**

 

”Pardon me for speaking out of turn, Seeker Pentaghast, but.. there is no time. Ser Solas said the army was very close.”

 

_Breathe already!_

 

You exhale, wiping away the tears staining your cheeks, the liquid stinging a bit as you make the swiping motion.

 

The former templar turns then, and the scout straightens once again into a salute.

 

”What are your orders, commander?” He asks, hands back to fiddling with the bow as soon as Cullen gives him a slight nod.

 

Leliana and Cassandra’s eyes narrow simultaneously as they look at you, then back at the commander.

 

”As Scout Blake said, there's no time. We will leave this place, and pray to the maker the bad weather and rough terrain slows down the Elder one's armies as much as it does us.”

 

Cassandra makes a choked noise that sounds like a mix between a snort and hiss, and Leliana swiftly moves to block the future general’s path.

 

”Cullen, gambling with people's lives is not acceptable. Even if the maker watches over us, you of all people should-“

 

_Uh…_

 

”We can't just leave and hope for the best, we will leave some men behind to hold them off, we won't-” Cassandra interrupts with a loud voice, only to be interrupted herself.

 

 _Uhm_...

 

”No. I'm not leaving some of my men behind to die,” Cullen hisses, eyes positively glowering, “I saw the bulk of that army, they'll be slaughtered in no t-”

 

”STOP ARGUING!” You suddenly snap, nearly suffering a heart attack from the instant effect your shout has.

 

_Oh no, did you just scream that out loud?_

 

At least it effectively shut down their arguing. But.. you still have the issue of _not knowing what to say!_

 

Cassandra clenches her jaw and pierces you with her predatory gaze. The way you appear to have their undivided attention, you know what you are about to say next will have a huge impact on future events. You shrink in on yourself, suddenly feeling very small.. and very vulnerable, not ready for such a huge responsibility.

 

A small choked noise escapes your suddenly parched mouth.

 

_Breathe, just breathe. Focus on the supply issue, keep them distracted._

 

**Easier said than done.**

 

“Uh... w-what a-about the uh.. supplies? Y-you said we have don't have e-enough of those?” you wheeze out in between deep gulps of air.

 

_That's it. Keep it up._

 

Cassandra un-clenches her jaw, crossing her arms, leaning on the ball of her left foot as Leliana slowly nods at you.

 

“Yes, barely enough to last us through the next couple of days, and we lost more than half our mounts back in Haven.” The rogue replies in her usual, accented voice, expression still unreadable.

 

_Breathe. Remember, mounts carry the supplies, which means you can ask about their number, which means the conversation will keep going._

 

You nod discreetly, swallowing past your seemingly swollen tongue, wishing anyone could give you a water bottle, preferably mineral water, the one with the melon and citrus taste...

 

_Ok, getting a little off track here!_

 

You fist your hands in the hem of your tunic, perspiration soaking through despite the cold temperature.

 

”Uhm so... do we have enough animals to carry the supplies if we flee?”

 

_Animals? Really?_

 

**Trying here!**

 

Leliana blinks at that and opens her mouth, but Cassandra beats her to it with a dramatic gesture of throwing her hands in the air.

 

”We do have two carts left standing..” she starts, hands smacking down her sides, ”Which is not enough to carry both the supplies _and_ the wounded. There are only a few oxen left alive, along with a dozen horses, and that dangerous undead … thing.” The Nevarran finishes with a frown, giving you some sort of indecipherable look.

 

_Oh... she means the bog unicorn!_

 

You blink.

 

_That's going to be one hell of an awkward meeting._

 

Nothing makes any sense in Thedas, so why not have an undead horse with a sword stuck through its head as a mount in 'reality' as well? Go figure this version of the game would follow the events of your female elf playthrough, which was your _first_ playthrough, aka the one where you didn't have nor used, a walkthrough. You got so much disapprovement, you might as well have put a sticker on top of your head saying 'kick me'. In hindsight, seeing how you're occupying your elven inquisitor's body along with experiencing that world's state first handedly, you really should have scrapped that save.

 

_There seems to be a reoccuring theme here for you to embody the inquisitors from the dragon age inquisition saves on your laptop._

 

You shudder as you realise just _how true_ that statement is, and that some of your choices seems to have butterflied _all_ of your collective saves to hell, because as far as you're concerned – none of your inquisitors went back in time to be experimented on or were treated like criminals by your companions, nor did any of them die the way you seemed to have done.. over and over again.

 

 _Either you’re just that much of a moron, or you really_ did _break the game._

 

“A horse can carry two riders at most, and I doubt the wounded could ride so they’ll have to be placed in the wagons, but the oxen will be encumbered and slowed if they carry more than a dozen supplies in their carts. The oxen carrying both the supplies and the wounded is out of the question, so either they carry the supplies _or_ the wounded... and then we're back to the problem with the mounts since they can't have more than a few supplies in their saddlebags or carry more than two riders.” Cullen suddenly continues, snapping your focus back to reality.

 

_Yeah.. 'reality'._

 

**Shut up!**

 

Had the situation not been so serious, you might've tried to smack your inner voice at the top of their metaphorical head.

 

_Violent tendencies aside, let's go back and think properly before the situation spirals out of control again._

 

You internally nod at that.

 

_If the weight's the issue... what if you somehow could, perhaps magically, make the supplies weigh less?_

 

Not a bad idea, you have played quite a lot of online games, and read enough books to know levitation is a possible spell you can cast in most fantasy worlds. Is it possible to do the same here in Thedas?

 

_Whatever the answer, come up with it quick because.. Corypheus! Dragons! Cranky companions!_

 

”Whatifthesuppliesweighedless?” You blurt, unable to stop the quick flow of the words.

 

_Just breathe for Christ’s sake!_

 

”Could each ox carry both the supplies, and the injured then?” you finish, proud to have been able to speak the last part without stuttering or scrambling the words.

 

”That's not p-” Cassandra begins, taking a step forward and you shrink in response, heart suddenly racing at the proximity.

 

”How would you suggest we do that? Reorganise the supplies?” Leliana interrupts, holding out her hand, effectively cutting off Cassandra's path to you, earning herself a positively murderous glare from the seeker.

 

”W-with m-m-magic,” You continue in a high pitched voice, internally cringing at your own behaviour.

 

You try to swallow, clear your throat of the gravel that seems to have suddenly stuck there, but it doesn't work while knowing you're standing in the presence of at least two people who shun everything magical, and a very much fuming seeker with a very real, big, sharp sword.

 

_And you more or less just blasphemed too, if we are to walk down that road._

 

You shrink further into yourself at that as Cassandra sputters something unintelligible and Leliana smoothly makes her take a few steps backwards while still keeping her arm outreached. Cullen's face seems to turn fifty shades of red in your far peripheral vision as he watches it all, but Leliana simply inclines her head at him, as if only acknowledging his mood, before turning back to you.

 

“You would suggest we use magic to...?” She begins, making a round motion with one hand that seems directed at you, eyes glittering in their usual, unnerving way.

 

_Breathe. Cassandra backed off, and this version of Leliana seems to be protective enough of you to potentially protect you from Cullen as well._

 

“T-to make the supplies l-levitate,” You manage to get out in a small voice. “That'd m-make them weigh l-less.”

 

_What's up with the stuttering? Just speak up already!_

 

**Just shut up!**

 

The three of your future companions blink almost comically in sync. However, the instant Leliana opens her mouth, Cullen cuts her off.

 

“We're wasting our time here. We barely have enough mages to keep the wounded alive, even less to be used casting strange, heathen spells with inexperienced, apostate mages. I don't have nearly enough templars to deal with the consequences of that.”

 

Cassandra snorts and throws her hands up into the air, grunting something unintelligible in response that ends in a nod.

 

“Not to mention such an endeavour on such a scale would require focus, coordination, and discipline. Even if we'd distribute the few templars we have left to supervise, all of them together would not fit together inside of the supply carts to keep the supplies levitated, and even if they _did_ fit, we don't even have half the potions required for such a massive undertaking,” the former Templar finishes, lips thin, eyes still positively frigid.

 

You gnaw on your lower lip. What the hell did you do during your first playthrough to earn his ire even this far along in the game? You don't remember anything that would've triggered such a reaction from the future general.

 

_Well, you knew what you were up against even before you opened your mouth. Besides, technically you did, just now, ask people who hate or shun magic to accept and approve of your proposition to use said magic in an unconventional, unfamiliar, to them, unsafe way._

 

**Thedosians are really close minded.**

 

_No shit, Sherlock._

 

You ponder your options for a couple of seconds, exasperation and annoyance making it past your initial fear, and it makes you realise that Cassandra's argument is completely solid...if not for the fact that you have faith in the mages of the inquisition after having played through the game and all its DLCs, a knowledge of future events neither she nor the others, possess. You _alone_ know that these ‘apostate’ mages are trustworthy, and it is a not only a safety issue that your future companions don't trust in them, at this point where Corypheus is breathing down everyone’s necks, it's a positively _deadly_ issue _._

 

_A fair observation, but it’s not like you could speak up and tell them the real reason you trust the mages._

 

**Then what do we-**

 

**Wait.**

 

You inhale sharply as an image of Solas comes to mind.

 

_Oh, now that might work._

 

You silently agree, because Solas doesn't really need potions, does he? Something about drawing energy from the fade to use as mana, or.. something like that, you can't seem to remember right now, but Solas himself has been here from the start, and he is someone they trust - albeit reluctantly - but you can work with that.

 

“Couldn't Solas... stay on on the supply wagon to levitate the supplies? He is only one person, and that'd solve the issues of space, focus _and_ discipline because you trust him, don't you?”

 

You notice you have everyone’s undivided attention.

 

“And...” You swallow, hands frantically fiddling with the hem of the tunic by now, ”Solas doesn't use that many potions, so... it'd also solve the potions thing.” You finish, teeth clicking together from the way you snap your mouth shut, realising you need to be careful with what you say from this point on.

 

An image of Cassandra pointing her sword at your throat passes by your inner eye, making you shudder from the phantom sensation of cold, sharp steel pressed against your jugular.

 

_Yeah... not keen on experiencing that again._

 

All in all, by making this suggestion to them you could potentially butterfly this version of Thedas downright to hell, but you would screw over the entire world if all of the inquisition members died in this valley. They are an integral part of this game, you can’t let them die.

 

_How poetic, I'm impressed!_

 

You frown internally at your inner voice.

 

_So, hate to be a downer here, but Corypheus is coming! Get your ass moving!_

 

Instantly, your mind is flooded with the images of the corrupted Elder magister grinning at your inquisitor, sharp claws around her delicate neck, lithe elven limbs flailing in the air.

 

You shudder, making a small, frightened noise at the back of your throat as you try to dispel the images.

 

 _Then don't let it happen to_ you! _MAKE STUFF HAPPEN!_

 

You hastenly nod at that, pushing your anxiety to the side, forcing each limb to obey your command as you straighten your posture, try to look like you know what you are doing and speaking of.

 

_You’re not fooling anyone._

 

“Leliana, you asked me if I had any advice to give, didn't you?” You speak then, mildly impressed at your own ability to not stutter or go high pitched this time around.

 

The rogue nods slowly in acquiescence, gaze levelled at you, but not piercing like before.

 

“So... this is my advice: we try this my way. Cullen,” You turn your head to the commander who in turn straightens much like you just did, “Please get people ready and make sure everyone helps out to carry the injured to one of the carts. Make sure they're comfortable, then load the supplies onto the the other cart, but leave a spot big enough for one person to stand or sit comfortably on.”

 

_Solas led the inquisitor to Skyhold, you know, so it's not like you'll wander about aimlessly.._

 

Oh, you had almost forgotten about that, barely taking note of the strange look your future war council members give you.

 

With something akin to a loud gulp, you move towards Cassandra and Leliana, this time noticing their narrowed gazes. Steeling your nerves, you force yourself to breathe through the images of your past experiences of being this close to them.

 

_Not worse than possibly being choked to death by a crazed ancient Tevinter magister, though._

 

You wholeheartedly agree.

 

“Please, before you protest, let's at least ask Solas if he can help levitate the supplies in one of the carts until we make it somewhere safe. He said...” _Careful!_ “Something about someplace safe, so that means we have somewhere to go, and..” You notice the seeker's face harden, vein looking just about ready to pop, jaw clenched to the point of it looking painful. ”I know, I'm sorry, I forgot to mention it before now, but..” You swallow, ”please just.. work with me here _!”_

 

_Hope you know what you're doing._

 

At least you know _what you have done_ and what might possibly _happen_ if you don’t find a way. You injured innocent people, and you quite literally revealed their location to a crazed, blighted magister. Your uncanny ability to mess things up, to speak before you think, is what altered the canon timeline in this save, and now you’re left with a world in disarray that only _you_ can help put back on track.

 

 _Easier said than done, but at the very least you must_ try _to find a way for events to go back to canon._

 

“Come on, we have much work to do and little time to do it!” You exclaim with a finality you hope comes across as authoritative, rather than desperate like it feels when your legs wobble like a newborn foal as you hastenly brush past your round-eyed companions.


	37. Time is running out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Here you go with another beta-epic-shiny chapter! I am waiting impatiently to post the next chapter, because as fun as ending this like I did was, I can't WAIT TO SHOW YOU THE NEXT PART BECAUSE THIS IS WHERE IT ALL STARTS, PEOPLE! Also, remember that kudos and hits are life, comments are love <3 Let me know what you think! :D
> 
> As per usual, this chapter is as shiny as it is thanks to my hard working beta, drmsqnc. Go check her out on Tumblr or AO3, she's awesome!
> 
> https://drmsqnc.tumblr.com/  
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/drmsqnc/pseuds/drmsqnc

Heart racing like a horse in full flight, palms twitching, breath coming out stilted and short, you continue walking in brisk pace towards the main part of the camp. Everywhere there are people in an uproar. Some speak in loud, shrill voices to one another, gesturing wildly towards the mountains that loom like giant pillars of doom down upon you. Others are crying, holding onto those who, without full examination, you know are injured.

 

As you pass by these unknown npcs, no, _real people_ , to look for the only one who might save them all from a most certain death… _ironically enough_ , you notice they all just suddenly stop whatever it is they’re doing. _Everyone_ goes silent, eyes round or turning narrowed wherever you look. Quite a few stare at your palm, wrinkle their noses or brows, whispering to one another. Not to mention, despite knowing that you’re occupying an elven woman’s body, coupled with the fact that there’s almost always kinship between the elves of the inquisition, all elves within sight flinch away from you.

 

_Look what you did to them, look what distrust you just sowed amongst these people. You truly are..._

 

**A failure. Yes.**

 

You fight the tears burning behind your eyelids, breathing past the lump of awkwardness making each mouthful of spit hard to swallow, determined not to cry this time, trying your hardest to tune them out.

 

_Easier said than done._

 

Thinking to yourself that time is of the essence, you scurry past them, eyes still scanning for Solas’ familiar shape.

 

_Coward._

 

It is true, you agree. You have too little courage to speak up, or explain or...anything really. The urge to apologise is making everything inside of your mouth dry like gravel, air harder to inhale.

 

You have no time to react as the one person you've tried to avoid but now have to look for, the one person you really _don't have the courage to meet again,_ suddenly appears. You almost bump right into his sturdy frame.

 

Like a deer caught in headlights, you come to a screeching halt, wrapped feet causing the snow to whirl up in the air from the cut off movement. Silence reigns as a wind passes the two of you by. You take an instinctive step backwards when Solas’ sharp gaze pierces yours, and all of a sudden you don’t know where to put your hands, how to breathe properly or which foot to stand on. Every sense heightens, and as that sandalwood and lavender smell that seems to be Solas’ unique scent reaches your nose, you really don’t know what to do with yourself. You feel the blush on your cheeks intensify to the point of almost-pain. Knowing who he is, what he is going to do, and who you are, isn’t helping the growing panic in your chest cavity.

 

( _A spike of sudden terror shoots up from your subconsciousness and coils in your stomach as Fen'harel's razor sharp teeth hover inches above exposed, vulnerable skin._ )

 

A small, choked noise leaves your mouth at that, and the elvhen's eyes narrows in response. You croak out another noise, making him swiftly head over to you, each disconcertingly silent step causing you to flinch to the point where you wonder if you should just turn tail and run despite knowing how that would look and make you seem. As the one person in the game you _really_ don’t know how to talk to nears, you take another step backwards, your own feet making the snow crunch loudly in comparison. The memory of Fen’harel is still vivid, still fresh as he _crushes_ you, and the memory of you making a fool out of yourself in front of his alter egos, keeps replaying like an internet gif.

 

_Yeah, alter egos. Not him. Not this Solas. Breathe._

 

But you can’t seem to figure out how to do that properly, almost at the point of hyperventilation as the ancient elvhen stops short of invading your personal space.The smell of lavender and sandalwood hits your nose again, and your nostrils flare in response.

 

_You’ve always enjoyed the smell of-_

 

“There you are-” Solas interrupts your inner thoughts, and as if someone fired a starting gun, your mouth takes off on its own volition.

 

“Canyoupleaselevitatethesupplieswithyourmagicsowecansaveeveryonehereohgodpleasesayyoucantheyneedyouto-”

 

You audibly snap your mouth shut, realising the same instant Solas seems to, that you literally just word-vomited a ton of nonsense for no apparent reason. Solas blinks, parting his full lips, then just as suddenly purses them again. The ancient elf’s slightly round eyes and strange behaviour make you realise that even if you hadn’t made a fool out of yourself to this Solas before… you kind of just did now.

 

_Not ‘kind of’. Literally._

 

**Shut up!**

 

Once again, you battle a powerful urge to run away or magically invent some sort of portal to take you back home to planet Earth, where elves and ancient magisters hellbent of corrupting the world are nothing but fiction. Heat spreads in your face, cheeks quite literally burning at the end of it. The sensation even spreads to your ears, an unfamiliar and _very_ much _awkward_ feeling.

 

A pregnant silence follows where you just gape like a fish on dry land, trying your best to say something and he narrows his eyes, spine straightening. Nothing comes out, all you seem to manage to do is gulp down mouthfuls of frigid air.

 

 _Oh my god, what the actual_ fuck _was_ that?!

 

”I should… what? _”_ Solas finally speaks with another stilted movement as he leans slightly backwards, both hands clutching a staff that looks so... _video-game,_ you resist the urge to pinch your arms to find out if you're dreaming or not.

 

_You've already tried that._

 

Yes, you agree. You have and it didn't work.

 

_Because you’re still here, still making a fool out of yourself in front of everyone._

 

**Shut up or I’ll strangle you.**

 

_Good luck._

 

You resist the urge to huff at yourself as eight pairs of feet crunching in the snow seemingly come to your rescue, and Solas actually straightens further as they take position around the two of you.

 

_Like a damsel in distress._

 

**Shut up already!**

 

Feeling crowded, you blink, taking a step away from them as well. There is an insane urge to bolt bubbling inside your chest, making you shift what football to stand on as Leliana's sharp, seemingly all-seeing gaze lands on you, then moves to rest on Solas.

 

The way the rogue looks expectantly at the ancient elvhen, you expect it to be she who breaks the ice, but it is the scout who speaks up first. He tentatively says something about his deliverance of the message, along with something about urgency, and that time is of the essence.

 

_So why exactly are you standing here like a third wheel, again?_

 

Frankly you don’t know, but your mouth refuses to cooperate with you.

 

“Good,” Solas replies with an incline of his head, turning his stormy gaze to Cassandra. “Then you must know that there is no chance of outrunning an army with a dozen injured and unarmed civilians, nor do you stand a chance should you choose to have your men stay and fight.”

 

You have trouble digesting such a truth that feels like its been thrown in your face despite knowing _you_ are the reason events strayed from canon in the first place. Gathering as much courage as you can, you open your mouth once again to try and speak up- when the ground suddenly starts vibrating, and it might be just you, but is that an all too familiar roar in the distance?

 

Quite literally pivoting on the spot in response, you watch in rising horror as your elven eyes spot something black dotting the landscape, a darkness that gradually spreads over the mountainous background, all too soon enveloping all of it.

 

Nearly vibrating on the spot from the sudden spike of adrenaline, you notice in your far peripheral vision that Solas clenches his jaw to the point of his cheekbones becoming even more pronounced, hands gripping his staff harder, eyes narrowing to slits. For some reason, you come to think of your neighbour’s cat - he too would bristle like this when something out of the ordinary happened.

 

Cassandra draws her sword then, and spits out a string of harsh sounding words that are more vowels than consonants. Leliana's hands twitch over her twin daggers, posture rigid to the point where she looks like she’d just blink out of existence at any moment. The scout’s eyes flickers between the four of you, hands frantically fidgeting with his bow, opening his mouth, then closing it, over and over again.

 

Your hands twitch as your breath comes out in rapid puffs of smoke, along with a small reminder in your palm that the anchor seems to sense your growing unease.

 

There is no doubt that no one here, not even the few soldiers, templar and mages alive after Haven, stands _any_ chance against the sheer number that is Corypheus' corrupted army.

 

_Especially not with a leader who doesn’t know the pointy end of a sword, who can’t control her magic for shit or utilise any sort of combat ability!_

 

You feel shame rising from within your chest, making you ball your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palms to try and cope with the feeling.

 

“Time is running out,” Solas suddenly speaks with a clear, elvhen accent as the seeker snorts in a very unlady-like way.

 

You turn slightly back to your future companions at that, not really comfortable with having your back turned on people you don’t know any longer.

 

When the elvhen god of rebellion snaps his sharp gaze at the seeker, Cassandra instantly closes her mouth again, gnashing her teeth as she juts out her lower jaw at him. Had it not been for the situation you're in, you might've blushed and/or drooled at the regal way Solas’ posture turns in response, cheekbones becoming even more pronounced in the dim light of the day, eyes a crystalline colour as he surveys the four of you. It makes you feel very small... and very out of place.

 

_You are an Earthling, and these people are Thedosian, what did you expect?_

 

“Seeker, what are you g-” Solas begins, but the elf’s stiff posture seems to cause the Nevarran’s patience to snap.

 

“By the maker, I know time is running out, elf!” She hisses, earning herself a collective flinch from everyone as she takes a step forward with her sword still in her right hand, “ _My choice_ would have been to leave half the soldiers here to buy us time while we flee with the mothers and civilians _,_ but our Herald here said she has a plan that involves the use of your magic to make an escape possible for everyone.”

 

You almost feel like your feet shrink through the earth as every face turns to you, the seeker’s fuming eyes making your hands unclench and start fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Solas is making a facial expression much like the one in the game where he drank tea and told the inquisitor he hated what he saw when he looked at the seeker before turning his oceanic eyes at you.

 

_Now what?_

 

Would he refuse if you asked him to use his magic unconventionally? A lot is a stake here, and he would have every right and perhaps reason, to refuse. Considering how the mountains already have been dotten black, is there even enough time to load the carts any longer?

 

Noticing the frantic pace and the sudden silence that seems to have fallen over the camp as people scurry about like ants in an ant farm, you sincerely hope that wherever Cullen went, he went to organise things the way you suggested. Otherwise…

 

_What would happen if Solas refuse to use his magic to levitate the supplies?_

 

Corypheus would most likely slay everyone, Solas included. He might be the elvhen god of rebellion… but he is nowhere near the level he was once. A diminished god would not be able to hold off an army on his own.

 

_Well, you can’t just hop between bodies indefinitely and re-start the game every time you do something wrong or screw up!_

 

Though that train of thought is very tempting to consider, even just for a moment, you begrudgingly agree, even though it had _not_ been a pleasant thing to be a man, and definitely not a Qunari man. Everything had been all… wrong.

 

_Because… priorities._

 

”Pardon?” Solas answers behind his clenched jaw, digging his fingers into the staff he’s holding.

 

_(A spike of sudden terror shoots up from your subconsciousness and coils in your stomach as Fen'harel's razor sharp teeth hover inches above exposed, vulnerable skin.)_

 

You exhale through your nose and try to dispel the images skittering by. At least he’s not making you want to crawl into a hole any longer and fan yourself while simultaneously drool like a dog.

 

_Getting a bit off track here!_

 

Leliana is the one to gracefully step in between the bristling elvhen and human seeker, body acting like a shield between the two. Grim gazes turns to you and you hang your head, unable to face their intense gazes all at once.

 

“Solas...” The rogue drawls, and you peek up at her through your elvish lashes, “the herald told us you could use your magic to make the supplies weigh less, thus enabling us to fill the carts with both supplies and the injured so the the mounts we have left could be utilised by those capable of combat.”

 

You literally feel like sinking through the earth or running the other direction in full flight mode as everyone turns to you once again. Your feet even twitch in response to that train of thought, and as if to mock you, the anchor suddenly lights up.

 

_Always the damsel in distress, aren’t you?_

 

**Don’t you ever shut up?**

 

_No._

 

The anchor sputters and crackles with green light and your future companions’ collective stares turn to the magic leaking out of your left palm. As if the universe wants to have a laugh at your inability to speak up and speed things along, the ground ominously suddenly go from vibrating.. to trembling.

 

Solas’ eyes turns round, jaw slackening as his head snaps towards the mountains, and Cassandra launches into another session of unintelligible vowels and rough consonants. Leliana simply changes which football to stand on, but her hands moves to the twin daggers, clenching their hilts to the point where the knuckles turns white.

 

At least the anchor acting up isn't painful this time, but there is a certain prickling feeling in your palm that reminds you of the phrasing 'to have ants beneath your skin’. Had the anchor been sentient, you would have called the feeling...anticipation. And not the good kind.

 

 _Seems you can’t stall any longer, you have to do something, you have to explain, you have to get these people moving! You need to be their_ leader, _if only until all those people you injured and you, are safe._

 

 **Until then,** you agree, nodding discreetly in acquiescence, balling your hands once again into fists.

 

You swallow past a sticky feeling tongue, coughing as the spit seems to have turned into gravel, rough against your throat as it goes down. A slightly sweet, yet soemwhat sulphuric smell wafts through your nose as you follow Solas’ gaze to the overrun mountains. All four of you balance on the trembling ground, and you try to gather the courage needed to do what you know you _have to do_.

 

As the seconds slowly trickles by, the scout seems to start hyperventilating, eyes darting between the four of you.

 

_For the love of god, JUST SPEAK UP ALREADY!_

 

You take a deep, shaky breath and open your mouth.


	38. What’s a modern girl to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2018-05-31 (added some extra goodness, feel free to re-read the chapter if you wish!)  
> I'm so excited to be posting these chapters, this is where all the fun begins, and it's been A THRILL to write these chapters! Here, have this one and hope you enjoy! I LOVE YOU ALL MY DEAR READERS!!! <3
> 
> As per usual, I couldn't have done it without my epic beta: drmsqnc!  
> https://drmsqnc.tumblr.com/  
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/drmsqnc/pseuds/drmsqnc
> 
> Go check her out, she's awesome!

The same instant your vocal cords get ready to speak, a deafening roar echoes across the skies, the ground vibrating from the sheer volume of it _._ You startle to the point of tripping over your own feet, heart feeling like it is going to jump right out of your throat as you fall forward, mind barely coherent enough to brace the fall with your hands.

 

Everyone simultaneously look up as a giant, dark body blocks out the light, and you freeze on the ground as your gaze is met with a scaly, rotting underbelly and it’s suddenly so close, you can smell the sickening mix of sulfur, copper and other vile odours you have no name for. Body reacting faster than you thought humanly possible, you throw yourself to the side on the cold snow as Corypheus’ dragon passes by a hairbreadth above your head, one claw getting caught in a tangle of hair, tearing it loose from your scalp. 

You wince at the burning sensation that follows, but are too scared to move as the beat of its mighty wings push you further into the whirling snow. Icy flakes get everywhere, even inside your meagre clothing. You shake like a leaf in a storm, heart pounding so hard against your ribcage, it feels like you’re about to suffer a heart attack. With another ear splitting roar, the shadow grows smaller and smaller, then vanishing all together. Arms and legs shaking, and not from the cold, you slowly move into a sitting position, spitting out mouthfuls of snow.

 

 _Holy christ almighty, that was a goddamn_ dragon _! Thedas is fucking permeated with dragons, and you’re the bloody inquisitor, and-_

 

**JUST SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!**

 

You exhale, and try to simply catch your breath, heart still beating like you just ran a marathon, every limb in your body turned into jello. The air reeks, and you shudder in revulsion as you try to inhale as shallowly as possible through your mouth, anything to keep your stomach from rebelling against the odorous air.

 

You’re suddenly grateful your stomach’s empty.

 

 _A dragon, that was a fucking_ dragon _._ **_A dragon!_ **

 

“Oh my god!” You exclaim, limbs more or less only twitching uncooperatively as you try to move. With something akin to the grace of a drunk octopus, you clumsily stand up, hair getting everywhere in your face. You ignore the sting that follows the movements as you brush it behind your pointed ears, praying to the lord that you’re not bald on the spot where the dragon’s claw tore out the lock of hair from your scalp.

 

Close to the point of hyperventilation, you grab a hold of person closest to you, who happens to be Solas, and dash towards the general direction of the middle of the camp.

 

“Hurry up!”

 

Mind too much in a chaos to check if the others follow, you zig zag between equally frenzied people to try and find the inquisition's future commander.

 

 **Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,** is on a screaming repeat in your mind as you finally find Cullen standing between two scouts and one templar. The scouts flinch when you arrive, but the templar narrows his eyes and draws his sword. You come to screeching halt at that, and your heart sinks to the point where you hold your breath, mind catching up on the fact that you have no idea what your relationship with these people were previous to you arriving here, but if that drawn sword is anything to base it on... 

 

“At ease, Sir Auldrey. I have the Herald under control.” Cullen interrupts your inner monologue, and the templar slowly nods, sheathing his sword with a stiff movement.

 

He follows your every movement as you take a step back, almost walking right into Solas’ sturdy frame, feeling your eyes going round and jaw slack at how you’re being treated. You instinctively glance at the two scouts, who in turns flinch again, both of them taking a step backwards.

 

_Well.. you did almost blow up the entire camp and injured a lot of people, and Corypheus’ dragon just appeared, so perhaps their fear is justified?_

 

**…..**

 

You bite your lower lip at that and look up at the grey, cloudy skies, feeling like you're on the verge of fainting or running blindly at the prospect of the dragon appearing once again.

 

You hear Solas move behind you, and before anyone has the chance to speak, words tumble out your mouth.

 

”I don’t know what’s going on, but we need to go. As in RIGHT NOW! Didn’t you see the dragon?”

 

_Are you retarded? Of course they saw it, it fucking almost turned you bald!_

 

They all blink at that in an almost eerie sync, and you barely stifle the urge to facepalm at yourself.

 

Cullen then turns his head to look at Solas who appears at your side, posture stiff to the point where every angle in his face is suddenly so prominent that he looks more Tolkien elven than Thedas-elvhen. His vividly blue eyes only add to the image of otherworldliness, and you stomp down on the strange feeling that follows.

 

Hurriedly looking away, you hope no one notices the heat rising to your cheeks as your mind fills with images of your dashboard on tumblr. You can’t deny that it’s utterly _swamped_ with pictures and fanart of all kinds of elves, elven clothing, dragon age elves, Zevran, Fenris...

 

_Focus!_

 

Mind reeling slightly from the mental slap, you grit your teeth and focus on Cullen. He sighs heavily and rubs his temples, making a sweeping motion to the people scurrying about all around you.

 

”Yes.” The future commander bites out. ”We saw the creature.”

 

You look down at that, shame rising from the depth of your gut.

 

“I took the liberty to have my men load the carts immediately,” Cullen continues, crossing his arms, lips turning impossibly thin. “But without a set path and defendable location at its end, it doesn’t matter how organised we are, getting lost in these mountains will as surely kill us as the Elder one’s armies.”

 

_Yeah… if things had followed canon events, Corypheus wouldn't have caught up, and Solas would have led the inquisitor to Skyhold._

 

Your character had it all too easy, you think as you exhale a tiny noise of frustration. The same instant you do, Solas changes which foot to lean on, posture still stiff to the point where he looks like his eyes would start glowing dark blue at any second.

 

_Pray to the lord he doesn’t leave you from all the ‘Solas disapproves’ you’ve garnered at this point._

 

Your heart does an uncomfortable leap in your chest, and you realise just how urgent it is for things to get back on track. But what should you do? Simply _ask_ him to show you to Skyhold?

 

_Did you even have the discussion with him about the orb being of elvhen origin before all of this?_

 

…. **Fuck.**

 

Seems things have veered so far off canon, you haven’t even had the time to have that discussion, and .. seeing how you just grabbed a person older than history itself, and quite literally, rudely, dragged a _god of rebellion_ behind you.. you’re not sure simply asking Solas outright to show you all to Skyhold would go over very well. You don’t know the social rules of Thedas, but he does not look happy about you manhandling him, and a bummed out Solas is not someone likely to help out, that much you know about his character.

 

**Shit.**

 

_Shit indeed. So what are you going to do?_

 

Logically thinking, you should speak up anyway, because wandering these mountains aimlessly will, as Cullen truthfully stated, have you all killed. If not from the cold, then from running out of supplies or getting lost and mauled by… whatever it is that lurks in these treacherous mountains or some other scenario your Earthian brain isn’t able to conjure up.

 

 _Not to sound pessimistic or anything, but how are you going to ask him about Skyhold and explain in a non-revealing kinda way, that you know_ _about the fortress in the first place? That fade excuse is getting old-_

 

**Just shut up already!**

 

You cut off your inner voice, almost choking on your spit from trying to wrack your brain for something to say, to do, whatever, and it does not help that Solas discreetly starts rubbing two fingers over the spot you roughly held just moments ago.

 

Cullen seems to say something, and you’re not sure what, but the templar suddenly stomps off, along with one of the scouts. The one who stays is fidgeting almost to the point of madness, and Solas is still rubbing his..

 

 _You have to do something! He is literally the only one who can save the situation now, a situation which_ you _caused in the first place! SAY SOMETHING BEFORE THE DRAGON SHOWS UP!_

 

**OKAY GOT IT, YES YES OKAY!**

 

“IknowofaplacewecangotoandSolasknowsaboutittoo-” you blurt out, hands flailing in the air as you try to convey the urgency of what you mean.

 

Everyone stops whatever they’re doing, and the scout even stops fidgeting. Heat rises to your cheeks once again as everyone stares at you.

 

“...pardon?” Solas says with a blink, and the movement on his wrist falters for the split of a second before resuming its course, fingers slightly digging into the skin this time.

 

Realisation strikes and you quite literally slap a hand over your mouth.

 

_What the actual… that’s not how you- … you know what, forget it._

 

It is, however, true what your inner voice deducted - if Solas refuses to go along with your plan, or show these people the way, all of them, the women and children, the soldiers, and your companions, will be killed.

 

 _You included._  

 

Quite frankly that means the game will restart, and you will have to get used to being in manacles once again, dealing with the excruciating anchor acting up, Cassandra possibly pointing her sword at your throat... just no. You can’t deal with all of that again.

 

You gnaw on your lower lip until a slight coppery taste fills your mouth, feeling the tears sting behind your eyelids.

 

“Is it true what the Herald said, apos- _Solas_ , do you know of a place we can go to?” Cullen unknowingly comes to your rescue, breaking the silence that followed.

 

Solas’s jaw tightens then, brows furrowing a bit as he slightly inclines his head, turning his sharp gaze towards the remaining scout.

 

“Scout to the north. There is a place there that waits for a force to hold it. A fortress where the Inquisition can build, and grow… Skyhold.”

 

You almost choke on your own spit again at his canon phrasing, a mix of coughs and shallow, frantic breaths following.

 

 _Stop it! You can’t have a fit right now! There’s a god forsaken dragon on your tail, on these people’s tails, on_ everyone’s _bloody tails! REIGN IT IN!_

 

You ball your right hand into a fist in response, biting into it with gusto, eyes watering from the pain, but at least you manage to stop yourself from descending into a hysterically laughing mess… for now.

 

_You better pray to the lord and Jesus and the holy spirit that Solas agrees to your plan despite it all._

 

The universe really should have sent _anyone else_ to Thedas, you agree.

 

Before you have the time to say anything however, Cullen takes a step forward, sword and shield clanking ominously against his armour with the motion.

 

“Maker's breath. We have a dragon on our trail and here we are idling around,” he mutters before straightening and locking his gaze on you.

 

“We have almost loaded everything and everyone into the carts. The oxen have been fed, though a few of my men have yet to mount, they are still carrying the last of the supplies. We more or less only need your apostate to take up his position, and... _fix_ the weight issue now that we have a place to go to.” Cullen adds with a grimace, eyes then turning to Solas.

 

_He’s not going to ask Solas or you about how you both know of Skyhold?_

 

All of a sudden there’s another roar in the distance, making you all jump on the spot. This time, you manage to stay on your feet, but your bladder feels strangely full and all too ready to burst in response to the airborne creature in the distance.

 

 _Really?_  

 

“Just come one, we don’t have time! We need to go!” You plead, gesturing with your hands to the skies.

 

Solas straightens to the point where it looks like he just turned into a rigid statue, and Cullen nods gravely, turning to the scout.

 

“Go.”

 

The scout bows and scurries away, and Cullen moves his gaze to Solas.

 

“The supply ox will be placed at the front. Seeker Pentaghast will ride with you at the front so you can give the directions to her. There are some lyrium potions at the back of the wagon if you need them to-”

 

“Yes,” Solas interrupts with a drawl, “but what _am_ I supposed to do with the supplies?” He slightly turns his head towards you at that, and your eyes immediately finds his.

 

You blink.

 

“Oh my god Solas, just make them levitate so they weigh less, that’s what I told Cullen and the others about, but we don’t have the time to-”

 

Another roar causes the words to die at the back of your throat, and heart race to the point of furious pounding inside your ears.

 

“There’s no time,” Cullen hisses out, and as on cue, Cassandra comes running, almost as if she's summoned by the urgency of the situation.

 

“I will ride alongside you, Solas,” She says. “Just do what the Herald said.”

 

Solas’ eyes glitter at that, and a puff of smoke swirls inside the depths of his now darkened eyes. The anchor flares up in response, and everyone's’ eyes turns to your green, glowing hand. You, however, are still looking at the maelstrom raging deep within Solas’ eyes, shuddering at the memory of him with the same oblivion eyes holding a dead Flemeth. You don’t get the chance to blink, or ponder that memory further before he dips his head, effectively hiding whatever it is happening to his eyes.

 

“ _Ma nuvenin”_ The ancient elvhen replies through gritted teeth and turns to briskly walk away, eyes back to normal as he does.

 

You blink several times at the whole thing, and his strangely subdued behaviour, wondering if it meant you just got another ‘Solas greatly disapproves’ and why the hell the universe seemed fit to send _you_ here to deal with, and figure out, all of this crap. 

 

As Cullen briefs Cassandra that you and Solas know where to go, you watch the seemingly pissed off elvhen make it over to a large, wooden cart filled to the brim with supplies. Elves and humans scurry about around him, but he turns and looks directly at _you._

 

Oceanic eyes seem to gaze right into your soul, and suddenly you wonder what it is he sees. Does he see you for who you are? Or just the shell of you, the body you’re occupying, an elf you’ve modded to hell and back? What if he, somehow, by you stating that you know of him knowing of Skyhold, is suspicious, or-

 

You don’t want him asking questions because you’ve never been able to lie, and you don’t have the courage to face the Dread wolf head on with half truths either.

 

_This will be one hell of a fun situation to talk your way out of._

 

 **Not.**  

 

You feel heat rising into your cheeks again, and find yourself unable to keep gazing into those soulful eyes of his. Despite him not being able to read minds like Cole, you feel like he has an uncanny ability of seeing too much, and you really can’t deal with that right now.

 

You notice in your far peripheral vision that the ancient elvhen is clutching his staff with both hands to the point where his knuckles has start turning white, but at least he seems to look at the skies now, not you.

 

As you turn towards Cassandra and Cullen, eyes anxiously watching the skies at the same time, a middle aged looking man clad in blue robes appears from the crowd, hair haphazardly put in a leather band, face puffed and red. You take a step back, allowing the man some space, not quite meeting the man’s stare. He only looks you over for a second before turning to Cullen, and you exhale in sudden relief.

 

“Commander Rutherford, I have lined up the mages next to the templars as per your orders, sir. We are ready to depart, each of us have mounted,” The man adds, then turns to you and stiffly bows at the waist.

 

“Herald.” He then discreetly, though not discreetly enough because you catch him doing so, moves away from you to stay closer to the crowd behind him.

 

You almost laugh at the irony that the universe saw it fit to send _you_ to fill the role of inquisitor here. You who don’t have any sort of qualification for the job, and both Cullen and Cassandra seem to do well without you. You’re more or less a glorified bag of magical rift-sealing meat at this point.

 

_None of your Earthian skills are of any use in Thedas._

 

None, and you will never be able to comprehend why the inquisitors didn't freak out, break under the pressure of the role they had thrust upon them, or simply abandon the inquisition to go back from where they belonged.

 

You know you would have gone home if someone presented you with the opportunity. It feels like you’re never going to be able to get used to Thedosian life, and you definitely have not found anything that would keep you here if a portal magically appeared, offering you a way home. You feel like you’re constantly teetering on the edge of hysteria, and that is no way endearing you to this place.

 

_Well, you did have a meltdown._

 

Yes, you did. You broke down in Cole’s arms, and you refuse to acknowledge what would have happened if the spirit-turned-boy hadn’t been there for you.

 

 _And by the way, Einstein,_ _it's called 'Bioware programming', that’s why the inquisitors were so accepting of their role._

 

Has to be the reason, you agree, because you would gladly let Cassandra and Cullen take the reigns until you figure out a way to get back home.

 

 _Well, you're not going to have to worry about anything of the sort for much longer if you become_ a _pile of ash._

 

**Holy shit, the dragon!**

 

_'The dragon' indeed. GET A GRIP!_

 

“Cassandra, Cullen, we don't have time for this. We need to _go_!” You suddenly exclaim, and all of them look at you.

 

Just as they both simultaneously open their mouths, a loud roar booms above your heads. You freeze, and the same instant the shadow of the dragon turns from ‘big’ to _humongous_ , all hell seems to break loose _._

 

As if the world has gone into a sequence of slow motion, and you’re watching yourself from a third person view, Solas darts forward in a streak of green and blue, a glowing arm grabbing a hold of your tunic. You blink, and watch as if from afar as the elvhen uses his strength to pull you to the ground with him. You land ungracefully with a loud ‘oof’ and turn your head to watch in growing horror as Cullen hides behind his tower-shield and 'blue guy' disappears in a shower of red flames.

 

You hear a high pitched cry that turns into a shriek as those vermillion flames rains down upon your head. Instinctively you curl up and try to shield your head with your arms, sure that this time you will either suffer a heart attack and die, or experience how it feels to burn to death before the actual restart.

 

The stench from the dragon is almost unbearable along with the scent of the corrupted flames. You dry heave on the ground, heart feeling like it's pounding inside your skull, tears pouring out your eyes.

 

_Dear lord, oh sweet baby Jesus, please don’t let it hurt if I die!_

 

Convulsing, you suddenly realise the shrieking is coming from yourself. Abruptly stopping, you uncurl and stare at your unscathed arms as the dragon once again beats its mighty wings and takes to the skies. You’re pressed into the snow from the force of the wingbeats, fighting for each breath as the gusts of winds make drawing breath a chore.

 

Then all of a sudden it just… stops. You shudder when you feel something warm against your back, instantly kicking out and moving away from the sensation. Your brain is on overload as you rise and notice that besides the blue guy being gone, everyone seems alright, although Solas’ hands are slightly shivering on his staff, front somewhat leaning on its wooden frame as he rises from his crouched position.

 

Cassandra is cursing loudly and Cullen is speaking to someone, you’re not sure who, because everything is spinning, everything is distorted.

 

How on earth are you alive? How on Earth is _anyone_ alive?

 

Distantly you can hear loud cries and other various voices, so you know people are still alive, though you have no idea how many are wounded or dead since you don’t know any of the people shouting or crying, and a few of the mounts seems to have gotten loose, and there’s a few people chasing it and...

 

You absentmindedly rub your hands against your arms, staring fixedly at their unmarred surface. How is it possible that you're unharmed when you _clearly_ felt the heat of the flames against your head, against your entire being? How aren't you severly burned or in a new body in a new playthrough?

 

_Solas saved you, you know-_

 

”Solas!” You cry out in sudden realisation, effectively cutting off your inner voice, arms and legs flailing like a newborn foal as you rush towards the ancient elvhen.

 

His eyes glitter and blink for a moment before they go round as you fling yourself against him, arms wrapping around his midsection. You can't reach further up, you notice, the top of your head is firmly tucked into the crook of his collarbone. He is so very soothingly warm, firm, _real,_ and you realise how tall he is compared to the other people around you.

 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” You ramble into his tunic, clutching at the fabric.

 

Solas slightly stumbles as you put all of your weight against him, arms and legs shaking so badly, you have no power to keep them functioning on your own. His muscles beneath the tunic are tense to the point of feeling like a coiled, marble statue, and had it not been for your brain being occupied with the pure joy and relief of being alive, you might have marveled at such a combination.

 

“Get the men ready. I don't care about the formations, just go!” Cullen suddenly booms behind you, startling you out of your frantic hug.

 

You hiccup at that, and are given no more time to think or react as a pair of armoured hands grab a hold of your tunic, much like Solas just did, more or less dragging you away from him. You can do nothing but stare with wide eyes at the seemingly bewildered elvhen as Cassandra pulls you towards the place where the majority of the mounts seem to be, most of them already carrying riders, though some of them are running around fully saddled and bridled, but with no riders.

 

“Get on your mount, Herald, you will ride at the front with Cullen and his men on the other side.” You can only blink in confusion, mind not quite having caught up with it all.

 

_Come again?_

 

Mind still reeling, you all but stumble as Cassandra releases her hold on you. Before the seeker turns, you are the one to grab a hold of her.

 

“Wait! What am I supposed to do?”

 

The seeker snorts in her typical Cassandra fashion, and you let go of her arm.

 

“Herald, just mount your .. beast, so we can ride. That dragon is too close, and we stand no chance against it.”  

 

You blink another time.

 

You? Ride? But you’ve never ridden before, you’ve not even petted a horse!

 

_Don't you dare to get all tongue tied because you’re ashamed here, THERE IS NO TIME FOR THAT!_

 

”Yeah ok, but I don’t..” You want to end the sentence with ‘know how to ride’, but realise that even if you said so, you have no choice seeing how a fire breathing lizard is hot on everyone’s tail, and stating such a thing when you don’t know if the previous Lavellan might have shown any riding skills is...

 

_No. Don’t think about that right now._

 

You bite your lower lip and suddenly remember that there had been a blue robed mage with you… and he was engulfed in flames. You didn’t see him rise, in fact, you didn’t see him after that at all.

 

_Well, you watched a man die today. Keep idling, and you’ll probably watch more die the same way. That dragon isn’t going to wait around for you to come to your senses._

 

You sway on the spot, stomach sending waves after waves of nausea up your throat. With something akin to the effort of lifting a five feet tall boulder, you manage to clumsily nod at Cassandra and turn, legs shaking to the point where you can barely keep standing. With perspiring hands and spit tasting like sauerkraut, you look the mounts over, trying to find the discernable frame of the bog unicorn. Most of the horses or horse-like mounts are huge, their legs seemingly everywhere, heavy or leather armour making them look unrideable.

 

Why? _Why_ couldn’t the universe have sent _anyone_ else here? Someone more social, with some sort of useful skill set and will to be the inquisitor for real. Definitely someone with the ability to ride, since you suspect you’ll be doing quite a lot more of that in the future. So why did _you_ end up here?

 

**If ‘here’ is even real.**

 

_Well, if you wish to test out that theory, keep idling, and you will most likely find out._

 

Your messy hair falls forward as you hang your head, strands seemingly all over the place as you fight the urge to vomit, panic and run off, the order of that changing with each second that pass.

 

You sincerely hope you will find the bog unicorn quickly and come up with a way to get onto its back in the midst of this chaos of people and mounts, because you don’t know for how much longer you can keep this up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to follow me on tumblr or send me a pm/message, I'm http://elenielwen.tumblr.com/
> 
> Also, I LOVE feedback/comments/reviews. They feed my muse <3 Hope to hear from you!


	39. CHAOS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this took a bit longer than expected, but life has a tendency to mock my efforts of getting chapters out regularily, so... I hope you'll enjoy this one! It's 7610 words, and I hope that 19 Word/Google Docs pages makes up for the late posting!
> 
> As per usual, this chapter wouldn't be so shiny if it wasn't for my AWESOME BETA drmsqnc! She's very kind to take her time polishing my chapters despite living in a different time zone <3 MANY KUDOS TO HER! You can find the link to her works, and tumblr, in my previous chapters' notes <3 
> 
> OOOOOOOOOOONTO THE STORY WE GOOOOOOOOOO!

Searching for the distinct appearance of the bog unicorn amidst this chaos is... well,  _ chaotic _ , to say the least. 

 

_ Har har, you’re very funny. _

 

Biting your lower lip at that, you grunt loudly as you manage to get shoved around like a ping pong ball amidst all these horse flanks that seem to be  _ everywhere _ . Trying to get away from the fray, you barge right into the front of an elf wearing the distinct vallaslin of Sylaise. They merely scoff at you, not acknowledging your title, nor occupation as the indirect leader of the future inquisition, before getting back to... chasing their crazed mount. 

 

_ At least they understand the severity of the situation. _

 

Even so, you blink at the oddity of their reaction, or lack thereof, since most in the game npcs’, and characters always acknowledged your inquisitor, and appeared deferential towards them. 

 

_ Well- _

 

You’re brusquely interrupted from your musing when some sort of elfin instinct kicks in, saving your forehead from being bashed in by a pair of horse hooves. 

 

_ Elf reflexes for the win! _

 

There is barely any time for you to regain your balance before you’re shoved onto your ass with a loud “oof” as a rough looking pony canters by, an armoured dwarf bouncing up and down on its back. The dwarf doesn’t as much as glance at you, he simply more or less vanishes into the crowd, and … that’s that. No ‘Herald!’, no acknowledgement, no apology. For a moment you wonder where Varric and the others are. 

 

_ Fleeing perhaps? While you’re sitting here on your arse like you have all the time in the world, a DRAGON is closing in you all! _

 

You bite your lower lip at that. Although their collective ignorant behaviour is utterly baffling to you having played through Dragon age inquisition more than once, you can’t seem to decide whether them ignoring your presence is a good or a bad thing. For now, you’ll focus on the good aspect of it, because Christ knows what you’d do otherwise. 

 

_ STOP THINKING SO MUCH! GET UP, GET MOVING! _

 

Unsteady, you rise to your feet, the movement anything but graceful.

 

_ Maybe you’re not cut out for this whole… elf thing. _

 

You snort at that, remembering your lucky dodge and instead of pondering that, you choose to get back to searching for the bog unicorn. There are quite a few people still on the ground, though thankfully they seem too busy to realise that their supposed Herald of Andraste is walking around avoiding the various mounts like an arachnophobic five year old in a house full of spiders. There are just still too many of the beasts around, and despite there being quite a few of them - the bog unicorn’s distinct silhouette is nowhere to be found.

 

Exhaling through your nose in frustration, you ball your left hand into a fist.

 

_ Why the hell did you have to be such a completionist? _

 

In hindsight, you have no idea and if there turns out to be a way back to planet Earth, you swear you are  _ drastically  _ going to alter what choices you make in the game! How badly must you have screwed up canon events to end up getting trailed by Corypheus and his dragon this early in the game? 

 

You duck from a leather knapsack being tossed towards a female elf dressed in mage robes. She immediately mumbles what sounds like an apology and then scurries away from you, a horse-like mount in tow. 

 

_ This is ridiculous! It’s like finding a god damn needle in a haystack! _

 

You hiss in agreement, and keeping the skies in your peripheral vision, you move amongst the chaos when your hip suddenly bumps into wooden tray of water, some of its freezing contents ending up on your pants. You curse at your inaptitude, rubbing a bit on your arms to try and combat the cold, goosebumps rising in reply to the chill.

 

_ What a great game, huh? Can’t believe there are people who genuinely would want to come here, who felt blessed after arriving in Thedas according to the fanfictions.  _

 

**_Screw. Them. all!_ **

 

Blowing heat into your palms, and then rubbing quicker against the arms, you mutter that at least you’re blessed this time around to barely feel the cold weather. In comparison to how freakishly cold you felt as a Qunari, this elven body is a real upgrade. You clearly remember what nightmare it was trudging around in Haven while being dressed in the Avvar DLC clothing. Of course you _feel_ the wintry air as an elf against your skin, but in comparison, you _are not_ particularly cold. This chill you feel now is quite the contrast to how you were freezing your ass and all other bits, off as a Qunari.

 

_ More elf perks? _

 

Must be, although you’re _ so not _ asking Solas that question.

 

_ Bet that’d go overly well. ‘Hey Solas, I can barely feel the frigid weather, is that an elf thing or..?’   _

 

**Just.. shut up.**

 

Suddenly remembering what it is you’re doing, and why there’s a time limit to it, you put a hand in front of your face and glance up at the skies once again. 

 

_ No rest for the wicked. _

 

You begrudgingly agree as you zigzag through the crowd, praying to whatever God that might hear your prayers, that you won’t be held up by anything, or anyone.

 

“If I were a horse, where would I be..?” You mutter to yourself as you scour the place with your elven sight. 

 

Everything is still mind bogglingly detailed - like you just upgraded the game from normal graphics to 4K HD textures. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to how detailed everything has been since you woke up as an elf. 

 

Your enhanced vision comes to your aid within a mere couple of seconds - it spots a lonesome mount that seems to have gotten its front legs tangled in its reins. The horse is not the bog unicorn, but maybe you could ride that one instead since no one seems inclined to collect it? You know Cullen mentioned a lack of mounts, but… no one’s claimed this one? 

 

_ Is that an excuse? _

 

Shaking your head at yourself, you come to a halt at the place where the horse rears up over and over again. Reaching out towards the reins, you are the one who is ran into this time around. You let out an oof, almost toppling over, flapping your arms like a duck landing in water to keep your balance.

 

_ What a waste of an elf.  _

 

**Shut it!**

 

Instantly your cheeks start heating up as you realise the person’s none other than the elf from before, and they are looking at you with some sort of weird expression on their tattooed face. You instantly lower your gaze, and start fidgeting with the hem of your tunic. 

 

Since they actually stopped to look at you, you expect the elf to react to who you are this time, and perhaps make a scene out of it. Possibly initiate a conversation with you like all the other npcs’ seems inclined to do during your playthroughs… However, nothing of the sort happens - the seconds pass by and the elf simply acknowledge your presence with a nod, before turning their back on you to focus on the tangled horse. 

 

You take a step back at that, unsure of what to do with yourself now that the only mount you could find has been claimed and yet another future Skyhold inhabitant ignores your presence. Not that you’re complaining, but...

 

As if you weren’t awkwardly standing there, the elf proceeds to fix the reins of the animal, effectively preventing it from getting up on its hind legs again. With a flick of their wrist, they throw the pair of leather straps over its head, and puts one of their wrapped feet in something that hangs down the side of the mount. You blink as they continue ignoring you and somehow, most gracefully jump onto its back. 

 

_ Definitely nothing like y-  _

 

**Shut. Up!**

 

How the hell did they manage to make such a jump, using only ONE FOOT at that, look so effortless?! 

 

You may have attended P.E throughout the years, but there were no lessons you remember attending to where you had to jump onto a six feet tall horse using only one foot. How in god’s name do they  _ do it?! _

 

_ Must be another elf-thing. _

 

Definitely, you think as you watch the elf lean over, whisper something into the horse’s left ear, and with a resounding “yaa” they lean back, kick the horse’s sides and take off.

 

You bite your lower lip at the seemingly complex pattern that is riding, trying to remember what they did and in what sequence for your own reference, but for some reason, all your brain can focus on is how the hell this is even going to work considering the fact that you haven’t found the bog unicorn yet.

 

_ Well, now that you’ve ogled yet another elf, maybe getting back to finding the bog unicorn would be a good idea instead of idling around?  _

 

You sigh and nod, begrudgingly getting back to your search once again. Within seconds, the doubts starts creeping back up on you. 

 

Christ almighty, you've never even  _ petted _ a horse, and now you're supposed to  _ ride _ one on a regular basis? The inquisitor sure did a whole lot of riding in the game, and you can’t even imagine getting onto its back without hurting yourself in the process. Even less so sit up there, and act like you know what you are doing in front of veteran riders. 

 

_ This’ll be interesting. _

 

**….**

Breathing is starting to feel like a chore as images of yourself falling off a horse and hurting yourself floods your mind. However, you are interrupted from your mounting panic as the ground suddenly darkens by a huge shadow passing by - followed by a deafening roar. 

 

Breath getting caught at the back of your throat, you reflexively look up, both hands going up in reflex to cover your ears. Your elven sight notes that the dark cloud is indeed Corypheus’s corrupted dragon circling above, and the fact that its massive body is starting to turn and then dive instantly sets off all of your internal alarm bells.

 

_ There’s no time! FIND THAT GOD DAMN UNDEAD THING ALREADY! _

 

**Oh my god, oh my god!**

 

“Where the hell are you, Horsie!?” You shout out in a high pitched tone of voice that breaks at the end, putting both of your hands around your mouth to form an ‘O’ shape to increase the volume.

 

As if to mock your long, dragged out search-quest, the undead creature suddenly appears to your left in a puff of dark, odourless smoke. Startled, you watch as the skeletal animal takes a step forward, its big head towering above your own, two empty eye sockets staring at you. Despite the beast having no eyes- you can  _ feel  _ the living dead mount studying you, half rotten nostrils flaring, rest of the body deathly still.

 

Can it somehow feel that you’re not the real Lavellan? You exhale a breath you did not know you were holding in at that, starting to fidget with the hem of your tunic once again. 

 

The dragon snarls above, and you flinch, holding out your hands in what you hope is a gesture that conveys the urgency of the situation.

 

_ … It’s a horse. An  _ undead  _ horse.  _

 

Perhaps it won’t understand what you mean, but you have to  _ try _ because it is really creepy how it just stands there, silently observing you, not moving at all, totally ignoring the giant fire breathing lizard in the skies. 

 

You try to control your racing heart as the bog unicorn lowers its head the closer you get, nostrils flaring once again, and you can’t help but note that its flanks are utterly devoid of any sort of movement.

 

_ This is insane. It’s not breathing, it’s  _ dead  _ \- yet it is moving, but that’s impossible - dead things don’t move nor do they display coherence… _

 

**We’re certainly not in Kansas anymore** , you silently quote when realisation hits you like a bucket of ice dumped on your head. The undead horse doesn’t wear a riding-thing on its back, nor does it have that metal stuff in its mouth with the connecting reins…

 

So how the hell are you supposed to be able to get up, not fall off and steer it?

 

_ You’re so screwed. _

 

You’re inclined to agree and everything just seems to crumble at that. You sit down, put your hands on your head and try to breathe through your nose, one ragged breath at a time.

 

Christ, what are you even doing? 

 

_ Trying to run from a dragon? Save a lot of innocent people? Fix your mistakes?  _

 

All of that, but… You look up at the statue like mount, that doesn’t solve the fact that you don't have a chair, or better yet, a god damn  _ table  _ to jump up on its back from, and even if you did – how on Earth are you supposed to steer it and stay on top of its bony back? You’ve never ridden before, you’ll fall off before you even started! 

 

You mentally curse over and over again the fact that Bioware didn’t deem it worth their time to put riding equipment on this mount. 

 

_ Really? You thought you could just jump onto its back and then all other things would just… magically solve themselves along the way? _

 

You wheeze at that when suddenly the large animal snort, takes a step forward and leans down to nudge the side of your head with its nose. You move your head away from its large, leathery looking snout, then freeze on the spot as the horse makes some sort of rumbling noise at the back of its throat, wishing, not for the last time, that you could just close your eyes and appear at home again. There is no way you’re going to pet it or feel affection for this…  _ thing _ with its sunken in skin that looks more like snake hide, than horse hide, and no way are you going to touch  _ dead flesh. _

 

_ Hello? You’re just going to ignore the Dragon circling above? GET OVER YOURSELF! _

 

You shudder at that, stomach cramping in nervousness.

 

As if the undead being is sentient enough to understand that time is quite literally running out, it nudges you harder, and paws the ground with a large front hoof. You sputter out something unintelligible as it moves even closer and turns to the side, looking back at you, almost as if it’s presenting its back to you.

 

A rumbling sound in the skies follows, and you shudder even harder, legs shaking to the point of making a dent in the snow.

 

” Y-yeah, I know the dragon’s coming” You say out loud, voice breaking at the end, ”B-but I can't-”

 

You don’t have the time to finish the sentence as it is cut off halfway by a deafening roar coming from above, followed by what sounds almost like thunder. The ground shakes like that one time you spent at your aunt’s place and there was an earthquake happening in the area.

 

Heart racing, almost to the point of pain, you suddenly spot the camp’s resident oxen stampede towards where you sit. 

 

_ MOVE! _

 

“Shit!” Comes out in a gasp as you quickly throw yourself to the side, rolling around, snow getting everywhere, even inside of your clothing. 

 

You curse as Cullen's mount passes you by to the right side of the frantic cattle and you’re once again forced to roll to the side to avoid being trampled.

 

The ground shakes even harder and you realise it’s because of the wheels of the wooden cart. From your spot on the ground you can hear the commander yelling in the distance followed by an accompanying shout you recognise belonging to Cassandra. 

 

You have no idea what it is they’re saying or what it is they wanted to convey when you’re suddenly lifted from the ground. Flailing like a worm on a hook, you only have the chance to say “wah!” before you’re tossed onto the bouncing back of the fleeing bog unicorn. For the split of a second you stare with owlishly round eyes at the retreating back of the supply wagon, noticing Solas regally standing there, legs perfectly balanced on its bouncing floor, eyes a dark blue hue, glowing staff raised…then the bog unicorn quite literally _veers_ to the side with a sound that reminds you more of the wail coming from a demon, rather than the neigh of a horse, and you lose sight of the ancient elvhen.

 

Screeching from the amount of bouncing the speed the animal runs at creates, you tighten your legs’ hold of the creature's sides, flinging your arms around its neck, holding on for dear life.

 

You internally scream at Bioware for their thoughtlessness as the undead animal keeps up the pace, giving you the bumpiest ride of your life.

 

_ In comparison to Solas, you’re a bloody stranded whale who had a love child with a hippo.  _

 

**SHUT UP!**

 

The speed is absolutely terrifying, making you press your nose into the strangely odourless skin of the bog unicorn’s neck, trying to find a spot where you’ll get the least wind in your face. A roar in the distance, and you have no time to be disgusted over the fact that your  _ face  _ is touching  _ dead flesh _ , or that your nether regions feel like they’ve been mauled.

 

**_Up, and down._ **

 

You screech as the horse suddenly stumbles, motion causing your front to crash against the horse’s sharp neck, nether regions wailing in protest. You imagine everyone of the inquisition could hear your frightened shout, but you have no time to be ashamed since you have your hands full with trying to stay seated on the bumpy mount. 

 

Tears forming in your eyes, you gnash your teeth, feeling like a fly caught in a hurricane, legs desperately fighting to keep you on its furiously bouncing back.  Your surroundings are nothing but a blur as the seemingly tireless animal speeds on. You’ve gone to places by car or bus on an interstate motorway, not to mention you’ve traveled by train, but not even they felt like they went this fast. 

 

_ And to think there are men who prefer to drive Cadillacs…  _

 

The boat-like motions are making your stomach do nauseating flip flops, adding more distress to your already miserable state. 

 

_ Definitely not cut out being the inquisitor. _

 

You shudder at the thought of actually getting to Skyhold and all that entails - praying to whomever god listening, that your mount is following the herd because you can do nothing to steer its course.

 

**_Up, and down._ **

 

You desperately want a pause, a breather, anything to stop this seemingly endless up and down routine, each bouncing causing you to cry out, your nether regions and legs positively  _ burning _ at this point. It doesn’t help that the air is frigid, clothes flapping harshly in the wind, all sorts of limbs having gone numb, feet all but unresponsive limbs of flesh despite your cold resistant body. 

 

_ Dear God, make it stop already! _

 

Suddenly, the dragon’s telltale roar erupts  _ right behind you _ . 

 

All the blood within your veins seems to freeze at that, and the undead horse veers violently to the side. The abrupt motion almost sends you crashing into the snow as gravitation pushes you to flail the side of the undead animal. With a screech that makes your vocal cords ache, the undead horse stumbles, and somehow that break in speed gives you the second needed to crawl up again, and get your raw nether regions back in position. Only the fact that Lady luck seem to have decided to smile upon you keeps you on its back as its massive head ducks then tosses itself up again, heart pounding in your ears, as the animal keeps sprinting.

 

Then there’s another snarl, again  _ right behind you,  _ and the living dead creature abruptly veers to the right. 

 

Your throat is too abused to form a proper yell at this point, the sound that comes out is something akin to choked noise, as your nails daigs into the leathery flesh of the mount’s neck to try and find enough purchase to keep your balance. 

 

All of a sudden a sharp, searing pain bursts from your right shoulder blade, agony digging its way all way through to protrude below your collarbone. The sheer amount of pain that follows is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. 

 

The bog unicorn whinnies as you holler at the pure amount of agony that follows despite your voice having turned into nothing but croaking noises at this point. 

 

Warm, crimson blood oozes out the wound, quickly drenching the top of your coat as you convulse on top of the sprinting animal. That is all you have the time to take note of before you’re heaved into the air, legs flopping listlessly as you’re janked off the mount’s back, and mercilessly dragged upwards. You remain slack, caught within a world full of pure unadulterated torment as the dragon rises ever higher, limbs spasming periodically on their own.

 

Despite adrenaline doing its best to numb the worst of it, the pain soon enough starts reaching unbearable heights the more you ascend, each jerk of the thing protruding out your collarbone making your vision blur. Your head flops uselessly to the side, and you notice in your far peripheral vision the thing protruding below your collarbone. It is a black claw, it’s surface rough, ragged, dirty, and it is positively drenched in your own blood.

 

_ The flight drags on, and all of you within the cage turn colder by the minute. After a particularly cold gush of air, you soon find yourselves warmed only by your shared body heat. The flapping of wings are a  consistent beat in this otherwise cold, silent flight. Stars appear and disappear, twin moons making shadows dance on many protruding cheekbones, blank eyes along with thin, broken lips. You all move in tandem from each of the creature's wing beats as you inch ever closer to your destination.  _

 

You choke on the next set of screams as you feel something hard envelop your body, steadying your convulsing limbs, pressing you  _ together,  _ then the claw slips out of you with an audible pop.

 

You holler in response, feebly kicking out, but your limbs remain unresponsive, uncooperative, _ worthless. _

 

Five claws surround you now; you’re trapped within a flying prison, wholly, utterly at the dragon’s mercy. 

 

Heart racing like a deer in flight, you clamp down on repeated surges of nausea as you float slightly upwards from the gravitation, or lack thereof this far up, each wingbeat jerking the prison around you, stomach heaving from the motion.

 

The winds are beyond frigid up here, and though the claws protect you from the worst of it, you can feel yourself slipping into some sort of state of mind where you’re feeling dizzy, yet strangely warm and blessedly numb. Trying to not antagonise the wound, you feebly, listlessly, rub on your arms to try and get some sort of feeling back. Your muddled brain can’t seem to figure out why you can’t make your teeth stop chattering.

 

Over and over again you blink, hiccuping _ , silently begging  _ for this to be nothing but a dream, that you’ll be back home if you simply close your eyes and pretend like it isn’t happening. Curling into something akin to a mix between a fetal position on the side, your right hand instinctively heads to the place where the dragon’s claw impaled you. The heat of the blood flow guides your numb palm to the hole, something whispering at the back of your mind to press against it, to stem the blood flow with pressure.  It immediately turns wet, and a strong scent of copper follows. 

 

Your stomach rebels in response, causing you to dry heave, as you fight to stay conscious, pressuring against the wound, fighting to try and stay as still as possible. You feel unreal with each expelled breath, body beginning to start twitching uncontrollably. Reeling from it all, you don't notice as the blighted dragon lands. 

What you do know is that suddenly your face meets icy cold snow head on. 

 

Your legs and arms are all but useless at this point so you land sprawled in the snow, limbs haphazardly, seemingly everywhere. You are the puppet that got its strings cut in hazy world of nothing but white and red. E _ verything _ is swimming in a sea of nothingness, you don’t know what’s happening or where you are until a familiar voice snaps you out of your dazed state. 

 

_ Wait… that is… who..? _

 

The words sound like unintelligible gibberish at first, and you blink to focus on them, the voice at the back of your mind’s gotten frantic in their effort to try and keep you conscious. You don’t want to remain in this painful yet numb world any longer. You’re _so_ _very tired,_ and everything’s gotten so blessedly warm, and...and… 

 

You curl into a fetal position instead of listening to the voice, reaching out to seek the beckoning darkness that promises sweet oblivion at the edges of your vision.

 

_ Please make the death painless, dear God, please let this be it and next playthrough better- _

 

However, the prayers are cut short as something grabs a hold of your throat, spindly fingers all but heaving you up from the ground. Coughing as your air supply gets cut off, your uncooperative hands move to try and remove whatever it is holding you suspended in the air. All that accomplishes is a twitch in each hand, along with a slight sputter from the anchor that reminds you that you indeed  _ do  _ have a left hand.

_ You're choking. _

_ Your heart starts to pick up speed as you try to properly breathe through your mouth, but even that is nearing impossible since it only makes black ichor bubble out of your mouth and nose. It smears all over Cassandra's back and you fight the urge to cry. _

_ This is not how you pictured choking on your own blood would feel like. _

_ It’s ten times worse. _

The flashback ends as a loud growl resounds in front of you, vision clearing enough to realise you’re face to face with... Corypheus and his dragon. Such a horrendous realisation is enough to snap you back to coherence, the fatigue you just felt seemingly all but nonexistent. The giant beast is stalking like a cat on its prey behind the Tevinter’s tall, corrupted frame, dinner plate sized teeth salivating, each drop of goop making the ground sizzle as it lands.

 

You inhale sharply as the dragon’s reptilian eyes slowly blinks, then narrows, the giant fantasy creature all of a sudden… smiling at you? For the split of a second all that exists are you and Corypheus’ seemingly burning, vermillion eyes, and the stench of sulphur and something positively rotten reeking from the dragon’s blighted hide. You reflexively dry heave at the stench stemming from the two  _ very real _ Dragon Age monsters.

 

Then the villain of Dragon age Inquisition shatters the moment by baring his teeth, and getting his face up close to yours.

 

” Long have you eluded my search,  _ otherling,” _ Corypheus growls out, his vile breath making your nose curl and stomach clench. 

 

The dragon raises its head then and hisses like a snake, moving closer, forked tongue snaking out of its mouth to seemingly taste the air around your face. Its large nostrils flare as it breathes in your face, and all together you seem to suffer a minor heart attack from the images of that huge maw swallowing you whole. 

 

_ Please don’t eat me, oh god, please don’t let it eat me. _

 

The dragon does nothing of the sort, however, it simply shakes its head, and dirty, blighted scales falls onto the ground before its long neck retreats behind Corypheus once again. It still watches you with those gleaming, reptilian eyes, and you shudder at the intensity.

 

“No more,” The ancient magister suddenly snarls and squeezes your throat so tight, it feels like your eyes are going to bulge right out of your head from the pressure, effectively moving your gaze to his.

 

Both of your hands, pumped full of adrenaline, reflexively move up to the fingers, feebly clawing at the grip. Flailing like a fish on a hook, you try to inhale enough air to beg the magister to release you. 

_ A spike of sudden terror shoots up from your subconciousness and coils in your stomach as Fen'harel's razor sharp teeth hovers inches above exposed, vulnerable skin. _

_ “Na din'an sahlin” _

_ Not understanding, and the instant you open your mouth to ask him to translate, the wolf's eight crimson eyes simultaneously blink and his enormous jaw snaps shut. _

_ A loud _ **_crunch_ ** _ follows, and you're cast into oblivion. _

**Oh god!**

 

You renew your struggle, and as you do, there is a tugging at the crystal protruding from Corypheus left lip. His eyes start glittering, vermillion turning a darker shade as the ancient Tevinter smiles widely, revealing a row of sharp looking teeth. You want to kick out at that, but the legs barely react, and you’re getting so lightheaded. Any movement despite the adrenaline overload is getting harder and harder by the second to perform.

 

The magister’s eyes follow your movement, then he lets out a laugh so guttural, so  _ wrong,  _ you freeze on the spot. The fingers around your throat tighten then, and light starts dancing inside your eyelids, darkness at the edges of your vision inching ever closer.

 

**Oh god, oh god!**

 

As if to make it worse, and the universe wants to have a further laugh at your expense… your bladder releases its pressure. You wheeze out a small noise in response as the warm liquid trickles down your legs. The dragon age villain narrows his eyes at that, licking his cracked lips, before pulling you up close, the two of you mere inches from one another. Snot bubbles out of your nose as you make a small noise at the proximity, and had you not been in such a predicament, you might have actually died of embarrassment.

 

The magister simply stands there for a moment, peering deeply into your eyes, though you have no idea what the hell he could possibly be looking for. 

 

_ You’re nothing - a weak, pathetic little human who literally just peed herself in front of her character’s arch nemesis. _

 

“ What a disgrace,” Corypheus breathes out, gaze seemingly following the trail of urine. “It is appalling to think that one such as yourself got a hold of the orb's powers,” he finishes with a disgusted noise, wiping the back of his other hand against his tattered robes. 

 

You wince as he then proceed to grab a hold of your face with his newly wiped hand, smashing your cheeks together with the strength of it, long claws piercing the skin on your cheeks. 

 

_ Please stop, oh god, please stop- _

 

“ No matter. You shall elude me no more,  _ otherling.  _ Prepare yourself for the honour that is watching Corypheus elevated to godhood!”

 

You choke on a mix of spit and snot as the Tevinter lets go of your face and grabs your left hand.

 

“ When I am done here, know that I shall crush that wretched little _ uprise _ of yours. You may kneel and thank this Corypheus for sparing you the pain of witnessing their demise!”

 

_ Please don’t!  _

 

**Oh god!**

 

_ Pleasestoppleasestoppleasetoppleasestop- _

 

Your mind frantically chants as the ancient activates the anchor’s magic. For a moment you wonder how someone like him can call upon the magic of a god, then  _ all hell seemingly breaks loose. _

 

A cry tears itself free from the back of your choked throat as pure unadulterated agony bursts from the palm, piercing through the darkness, the overwhelming amount of pain causing your lethargic body to come alive. Unable to yell more than once due to the lack of air, your body instead violently convulses. Your legs thrash as a burning, searing pressure starts building deep within the very fabric of your palm, every muscle in your arm cramping in response, every nerve ending on fire.

 

Waves upon waves of nausea follow as the Tevinter lets go of your wrist, simultaneously raising his own - a red glowing one, the mark flaring with green in response, mimicking the movement. 

 

Then there is a tug at the crystal protruding from his lip once again, dark, somewhat hooded eyes glittering as he moves his gaze to the anchor. Mouthing a string of words that sounds like a mish mashed mix of consonants and syllables, the corrupted magister starts chanting, even moving his fingers in spindle-like motions.

 

The agonising pressure inside your palm suddenly tears itself free in a supernova of sharp, searing lava slicing up the arm.

 

**OH GOD ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts!**

 

As if on cue, your body seem unable to handle the onslaught of pain any longer, and you vomit violently. 

 

A bit of the bile gets stuck at the back of your throat, and the rest simply wells out all over your mouth and chin, some of it is even pressed up your nose and into your tear ducts.

_ You're choking. _

_ Your heart starts to pick up speed as you try to properly breathe through your mouth, but even that is nearing impossible since it only makes black ichor bubble out of your mouth and nose. It smears all over Cassandra's back and you fight the urge to cry. _

_ This is not how you pictured choking on your own blood would feel like. _

_ It’s ten times worse. _

**Oh god, oh please, please stop!**

 

Every limb have lost their strength at this point, so you simply hang there, a puppet controlled by it’s puppeteer, a ragdoll with no will of its own. 

 

**_Oh god, Solas, ANYONE, HELP ME!_ **

 

As if watching yourself from afar, you notice that Corypheus's eyes all of a sudden go round and he abruptly drops you. 

 

Landing in the snow on your back, you dazedly watch as your anchor continues to shoot out tendrils of lime-green light, the pattern eerily similar to that of lightning, all of them forming a net around you and him. Hissing, the Tevinter magister takes a step backwards and the dragon snarls in response. 

 

You have a coughing fit as your throat bobs from the amount of air it suddenly can breathe, and through the sheen of tears you notice that your palm seems stuck in an outreached position, all of that lightning-esque light anchored to …

 

_ That’s a bloody rift! HURRY! _

 

Acting on survival instinct, you use the last of the adrenaline to force your uncooperative body to stand, and fling yourself into the rift. 

 

 **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~**

  
  


You don’t know what you were expecting, or if you were expecting anything at all, but feeling like you’re free falling in a world of complete darkness - was not it.

 

You tumble about, weightless, limbs, hair, and clothes seemingly everywhere at the same time. There is no temperature to speak of here, a pleasant change from the cold. Despite knowing that the physical laws of the universe state that when you fall through the air, there is some sort of sound - you are engulfed in complete and utter silence _.  _

 

There is no smell in this world and everything is pitch black, so you have no way of telling where you have gone.

 

_ Into the fade, perhaps? Physically, like at the siege at Adamant? _

 

You have no way of knowing as the only light found within this world stems from the small, soft glow the anchor emanates. 

 

To your relief, the pain in your throat and below the collarbone seems far away, even the fatigue that was plaguing you just before jumping into the rift, seems somehow miraculously absent.

 

As you keep falling, coherent thoughts seem to turn slippery, despite you feeling your mind and thus thought _being_ _there,_ they don’t seem to be of sustenance or important.

 

Time slowly starts losing its meaning as you keep descending.

 

Did you… somehow, die? Is this the in-between, the character loading screen? Are you, somehow stuck on a loading screen, on your way to a new playthrough, a new Dragon age save?

 

Or is this, as you pondered earlier, the actual fade and you’re, for some reason, free falling physically here?

 

Though if this is the fade - why is there nothing here? No.. floating mountains, no black city in the distance, nothing? 

 

As if to help you understand, the anchor all of a sudden starts tingling in your palm. You move it closer towards your face, studying the intricate pattern that seems to have spread to your wrist, and as if turning on the lights of an LED lamp, the glow grows in intensity, lightening up a bigger and bigger area around yourself. 

 

Still rolling around, still descending, the light starts engulfing your body, one green tendril starting to cocoon you. An odd, foreign sensation follows as the light softly drapes around your arm, spreading to your upper body, then heads downwards. You watch as the entirety of your body lights up like some sort of divine entity, before the anchor makes your palm lift into the air, and shoot out a long, straight pillar of lime coloured light. 

 

As if that did the trick, a golden glow appears in the distance, and your own light reaches out and drapes around the golden ball, then pulls it towards you.

 

You watch as the golden ball starts pulsating, slowly growing in intensity, blocking out the green in your palm, and with that, the darkness around you is all but is forced to recede. With each pulse of gold, the darkness recedes further, and the green stemming from your palm slowly starts bleeding into the gold.

 

Then, just as suddenly as it all began, the anchor’s glow recedes back into the palm. And with that your descent simply… stops. The golden ball twirls around you, light slowly toning down.

 

Somehow, your body find its vertigo on its own, despite your eyes not detecting a floor or ground. However, as you stand there, all your bodily ailments slowly creep back, reminding you that despite them being temporarily gone, they are still present.

 

With that, you can deduct that you are firstly, alive, and secondly, most likely in the fade, not somewhere in between or stuck on a loading screen.

 

As you take a cautious step forward, reaching out with your hands and feet to make sure the ground is solid, and there’s nothing in front of you, the golden ball starts pulsating, glittering residue all around you. You stop and watch, and as the glittery substance lands on your skin, every nerve ending it touches tingles pleasantly in response. The orb then flies around you, dropping golden dust on top of your head. 

 

All of a sudden all your bodily pain vanishes, the encroaching fatigue simply melting away. You instinctively close your eyes and let yourself simply revel in the first pleasant feeling you’ve experienced in… a very long time.

 

Eyes turning hooded, you open them almost as if compelled to, then instinctively reach out, beckoning the light towards yourself. The small orb stops its circling above your hand to drift towards your hand, and as it passes right through it, you’re suddenly flooded with images, sounds, and distant smells.

 

_ “I love you, darling.”  _ You can hear the  _ very  _ familiar voice of your mother, but it sounds a bit distorted, almost like she had spoken to you through a mobile device with a bad connection. 

 

The memory  _ hurts,  _ making you reflexively retract your hand.

 

_ What the in God’s name.. Was that?  _

 

You tentatively reach out towards the orb once more.

 

“ _ Yeah yeah,”  _ you hear yourself reply with a snort, “ _ I promise I’ll go, no need to be all… weird about it.”  _

 

It  _ hurts  _ that there is so little emotion in your voice, and so much in  _ hers. _

 

Tears starts forming as the voices go silent for a moment, and you notice you’ve retracted your hand again. Exhaling, you hold out your hand once more, fingers slightly shaking, heart racing. The same instant they connect with the golden light, the voices resume.

 

_ “Honey, where did you put the bag?”  _ Your mother asks.

 

_ “Pffft. As if you care. Go on your damn trip already, I will miss the bus if you keep stalling.” _

 

You wince at the memory, all but recoiling at the pure amount of emotion within your mother’s words. 

 

_ “Alright sweetie. Have a good day, I’ll leave the money on the table. We’ll be back on friday afternoon, so let’s rent a movie and watch it together on friday night, okay?” _

 

You hear an answering snort from the other you, and tears starts overflowing. She’s gone now, and you can, for the first time, feel a void within yourself at the place where the memory of her resides. Why weren’t you more nice to her? To them? 

 

_ “Yeah, whatever, heard you the first time. Just go. I will be late otherwise.” _

 

 _“Alright. Oh, and before I go, don’t forget to eat the lasagna I made, I made it with_ _qourn just the way you like it. It’ll last tomorrow, so you- oh, and don’t forget to eat the strawberry cake as well. Think it was named… Schwartzwald? I know you love strawberries, and a growing girl needs sweetness to cope with her studies.”_

 

The tears are no longer simply rolling down your cheeks, they’re positively pouring down. It is pure  _ grief  _ that wrecks your body. 

 

“Mum…” You choke out, knowing you can never go back and tell her all the things you’ve figured out and learnt since arriving in Thedas.

 

_ It’s too late. _

 

You start sobbing at that, and the voices within the ball goes silent, giving way for a whisper in the distance, that slowly starts gaining in volume.

 

You have no idea for how long you simply stand there and pour your heart out, when suddenly and unfamiliar voice breaks the silence around you.

 

“ _ You were given a second chance.”  _ The voice, a soft one, says and you look up at that, hand instantly moving away from the orb.

 

_ “Few do they turn their gaze on, even fewer do they bless. So tell me, child, why do you weep?”  _ The unknown voice does not seem to emanate from the ball of light, rather it seems to echo all around you.

 

You swallow at that, looking around, but nothing but pitch black darkness meets your searching gaze. 

 

“Who are you?” You ask with a voice as airy as a breeze, vocal cords seemingly unable to create a louder sound.

 

“ _ There are no answers of which we may give that would be satisfying, young one. Search within, and know that we are here, are real, forever here, and should you need us - call out our name and we shall be there” _

 

The reply makes no sense as you have no idea who ‘they’ are, and as you open your mouth to say so, you suddenly feel like the ground opens up beneath your feet.

 

A new voice appears as you start falling once again, the golden orb quickly vanishing in the distance.

 

“ _ Do not listen. If you do, it will affect not only  _ here _ \- it shall devour  _ everywhere _ and _ everything _ ”  _ The new voice, a distinctly male, yet too distorted to be sure, echoes all around you, consonants harshly spoken.

 

“ _Let Pride be the reason, not the guide”_ Another chimes in, and this time you think you might recognise that soft cadence. _“As it was always meant to be, so it shall be once more”_ It continues, and you close your eyes.

 

“ _ Let it be _ ” a chorus of crystalline clear voices echoes, and that seems to cause the anchor to develop a mind of its own - your palm reaches out and thrusts something away from yourself. 

 

_ “For it to grow, it must know both the price and the payment”  _ That first, vaguely female voice suddenly booms, and realisation dawns..

 

It sounds like  _ Flemeth _ is the one speaking _! _

 

You have to time to open your mouth and comment as your world suddenly shifts, and for the first time in your life, it feels like you're going  _ upwards,  _ though you are still  _ falling. _

 

_ This isn’t possible! _

 

 _Enaste! Enaste!_ Suddenly a myriad of voices chants all around you the same instant a pressure starts building within your palm. 

 

_ What the..?! _

 

You flail, mind unable to come to terms with the impossibility of  _ falling upwards,  _ then suddenly the very core of the darkness seems to come alive in a burst of colours, but then the kaleidoscope reverse, and you’re floating for the split of a second, then once again helplessly plunging downwards.

 

Mind reacting instinctively - you thrust out your left hand and as if the anchor understands what it is you want, it shoots out a beam of green that tears open a rift right in what seems like the middle of the psychedelic colours. The tear is narrow, but looks large enough to fit you through, at least you hope it does, and it is not like you have a choice - you’re descending at a breakneck speed right towards it.

  
_ Enaste! Enaste!  _ The voices keep chanting in an ever crescending chorus as you’re more or less sucked into the rift, and catapulted into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to follow me on tumblr or send me a pm/message, I'm http://elenielwen.tumblr.com/
> 
> Also, I LOVE feedback/comments/reviews. They feed my muse <3 Hope to hear from you!


	40. The price

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SO SO sorry for the delay in posting an update! Cancer's acting up again, and .. yeah, I'm sorry. Here's a chapter I hope you'll like and the next one is already in the process of being written, so hopefully it'll be out soon! 
> 
> Remember that comments helps feeding the muse <3
> 
> As per usual, a MILLION kudos and thank you-s to my epic BETA drmsqnc! You can find her on tumblr and AO3 under the same name! She's AWESOME, people!

You land with all the grace of an octopus out of water, hands reflexively slamming into the ground to try and lessen the impact. You freeze as your palms are not met with soft grass, cold snow or even the familiar pavement of the streets at home, no, they are met with a rough, uneven, slightly cool surface. Everything is drowned in pitch black, and wherever this is, it is completely void of any smells. Your heart leaps into your throat at that discovery, eyes snapping wide open to try and survey your surroundings...only to realise you can’t see anything, no matter how much you try. This pitch black world reveals absolutely nothing, even to your enhanced elven sight. Gnawing on your lower lip, you curse out loud, realising you’ve yet again ended up in some sort of alien reality, instead of Thedas or back home. 

 

Mind still reeling from your earlier ordeal, you rise on slightly shaky legs, refusing to acknowledge the fact that every part of your body feels  _ fine _ despite what you just went through with Corypheus and the bog unicorn, touching your formerly sore throat with something akin to disbelief. Swallowing past a sudden lump at the back of it, you slowly let go and reach out to try and get a lay of this strange world. Supreme disappointment over the fact that you did not end up in the real world, on Planet Earth, where things made sense or even back in Thedas wells up, makes your eyes water. At this point, anything feels better than odourless darkness bathing in utter silence, and so you tentatively reach out with your right foot to make sure you won’t go free falling. Foot seemingly meeting solid ground, you exhale past the racing of your heart.

 

“Ending up home somewhere where reality makes sense is, apparently, too much to ask for,” you bitterly mutter to yourself with a pang of unease that makes your heart pound even harder.

 

Du-dunk du-dunk is the only sound in this eerily silent reality, and you feel like a zombie walking blindly around with your arms outreached. 

 

You have no idea for how long you aimlessly wander, but you keep going, keep making your way through this seemingly endless void.

 

_ How the hell did you end up here? Are you even getting anywhere? Where are you? Are there more people here? Where even is ‘this’? _

 

Your stomach lurches uncomfortably at the questions spinning endlessly within your mind, your heart racing an eerie reminder of just  _ how  _ unnaturally silent this place is, the combination slowly draining your sanity.

 

“Hello?” You call out, stopping to listen for an echo, or.. Anything really, that might give you a clue as to your whereabouts. 

 

You wait for a heartbeat.

 

Then another.

 

However, no matter how much you try to calm down and listen, nothing but silence answers your call. Biting down on your lower lip once more, you shudder at the images of old Scream movies starting to play on your inner eye. You never were the horror-movie type of girl, preferring to watch drama series on netflix instead. Less.. heart attacks.

 

Suddenly, you’re desperate to find some sort of light, or.. Anything living, anything _ real _ .. preferably civilization but at this point, you’re not picky. As you speed up, uncaring of whether that is a smart thing to do, a light all of a sudden appears right in front of your face. 

 

You come to an abrupt halt at that, feet deciding to trip over themselves in their haste to stop. With an ‘oof’ that sounds _way_ _too_ loud, you pitch forward, the bright light following to hover above your sprawled form.

 

“They were right, you know, always right, yet we did it wrong, and look at where we’re at now!” The small, round ball of light practically growls in your left ear in a voice that sounds eerily much like your own. 

 

_ What… in God’s name is- _

 

“So broken, so wrong,” it laments, “I told them it wouldn’t work, oh dear Lord, I  _ TOLD THEM _ , but did they listen? **NO** !”

 

As you blink frantically to try and accept the fact that  _ the ball talks _ , you are forced to shield your eyes as another one appears, shining much brighter than the first.

 

Trying to simply breathe past it all, since logic and reality apparently has been tossed out the window, you watch as the new one shines a bright cerulean colour mixed with some sort of darker hue in the middle, darting from the golden one to you and then back. 

 

The oceanic… wisp? Then starts circling you, making you swallow and curl in on yourself, determined not to touch any glowing balls of light ever again, mind still all too aware of what happened the last time you did.

 

Exhaling shakily, you recoil as yet another orb appears. This one is golden like the first, but shimmers and shines less so than the other.

 

“I said ‘Go back’, I did not-” it begins, before the blue one shrieks and the sound is deafening within this place.

 

Groaning, you instinctively cover your ears.

 

_ What in God’s name is going- _

 

“And now this one’s broken too!” It continues, “This is insanity! Disaster! We can’t just re-do it every time!” 

 

That is the last straw, your brain, no your  _ sanity  _ can’t take it any longer.

 

“Just… WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!” You vent, convinced that there has to be something seriously wrong with you since there is a blue ball of light screaming nonsense in the middle of nowhere in a pitch black place that shouldn’t be able to exist. 

 

_ A therapist would have a field day with you. _

 

**...**

 

But the orbs pay you no heed and simply keep quarreling, each speaking to another right above your head. Gritting your teeth, you move to get up. The instant you do, yet _ another one _ appears. It barely misses your nose as it speeds by to circle around the others. 

 

_ There’s more of them? _

 

You groan at that.

 

“Of course not,” this new one says with a slightly green glow. “Worry not, we shall simply merge tiny pieces this time with the remnants of-” it continues in a strangely jovial tone, but is cut off halfway. 

 

“Merge?  **Again** ?! Are you out of your mind?!” The blue one hollers, “it failed all those other times, and that wasn’t even-” 

 

The golden one speeds forward, cutting the blue off by emitting some sort of glittering dust. 

 

“This time we’ll get it right, worry not.” It speaks with an assured, yet oddly calm tone of voice.

 

You stare at the wisps in a mix of unease, the three words ‘what the fuck’ on repeat in your mind as you watch the blue orb fly back and forth, movements jerky and clipped.

 

“But what if we don’t?” It hisses out. “Then ALL will be lost, and I’m not just talking about us!”

 

“What do-” the green one begins.

 

“We won’t.” The other golden one cuts it off, moving to cover them all in its glow. The blue one disappears and reappears at your side at that, making you recoil from its eerie shine.

 

It proceeds to bob in  place, and had it not been for these orbs being the only seemingly sentient lifeforms in wherever this is -  _ whatever  _ this is - you would’ve ran off a long time ago since  _ none of this made any goddamn sense. _

 

“Fine,” the blue one replies, and you’re still in disbelief over the fact that  _ all _ of these balls of light are using  _ your  _ voice, “But if this one breaks too…” 

 

The golden ones bob, floating back to you as well.

 

“It won’t,” they say in tandem, and suddenly you feel yourself pulled forward by some sort of invisible hand. 

 

It closes around your middle and hurtles you forward. You stumble, and suddenly the ground disappears beneath your feet. You let out a high pitched shriek as you start descending at a dizzyingly high speed, the wisps instantly vanishing in the distance.

 

 **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~**

 

_ “Do not fret, lethal’lan, all you’ll be doing is gathering information on why so many Shemlen have come together to meet at the same place, and whether their gathering is a threat to us. You will return within a fortnight, two at the most.”  _

 

_ You bow your head, desperately hoping the roiling within your gut does not show on your face. _

 

_ “ _ _ Mi’nas’sal’inan _ _ , Keeper.” You still confess, biting your lower lip to admonish your weakness. _

 

_ No scolding words follow. Instead she sighs, threading an aged, rough hand through her milky white hair, the only part that bears resemblance to your own. Feeling your gut twisting itself further into a knot at the reminder, you’re beyond confused when she moves to enclose you within an firm, yet tender embrace.  _

 

_ It makes you feel strangely humble as you fight an internal battle that makes the churning in your gut worsen with each passing second, the familiarity of her strong arms doing nothing to steady your trembling form.  _

 

_ As your Keeper relinquishes her hold of you, you force yourself to stand tall, to not shed any tears, the words “we are the Dalish, we shall not submit” on frantic repeat within your mind. _

 

_ “Dar’eth shiral, Ellana” She says with conviction shining from deep within her grey eyes. _

 

_ “ _ _ Tuelanen ama na, Keeper” you whisper in reply as you turn, put your staff against your back and walk away. _

 

Wait… What? That’s not you or  _ your  _ memory! You aren’t Dalish, you’re not an elf, you’re a human of planet Earth,  _ reality _ ..

 

_ “Stop it, it tickles!” You giggle at the fingers digging into your sides, playfully shoving at the woman beside you to try and make her stop.  _

 

_ Your body feels pleasantly light, and despite not being used to drinking, you find you quite enjoy being this lightheaded. _

 

_ The elven woman next to you laughs in response, sticks out her tongue and winks, making you smile and roll your eyes as you’re wont to do at her antics.  _

 

_ ‘“You’re so strange,” you say with another eye roll, and take a sip of the sweet beverage that heats up the back of your throat as it goes down. _

 

_ Suddenly the door opens. Gushes of frigid air cause goosebumps to appear along your arms and back. Senses too dulled to be fully startled as the door closes with a bang, you crane your neck to discreetly see who it is. The next moment you cough out loud as a wide palm slap at your back with all the strength of a Halla’s kick, almost making you to face plant right into the table from the force of it. _

 

_ “Evening ladies!” The Qunari booms, and it is only through what you guess is her reflexes Sera manages to avoid the same fate. “Drinking at this time of the day? Knew you had it in you, boss!”  _

 

_ He guffaws as you silently glare back while still trying to catch your breath. Creators, you’re sore all the way down to your midsection from his ‘friendliness’.  _

 

_ The elven archer to your right snickers and snorts through her nose. _

 

_ “Yeah, getting shit drunk in the middle of the day every now an’ then is good for ya” she replies, and before you have the time to react, the tickling restarts with renewed fervor, only that this time the towering Qunari joins in.  _

 

_ Through your laughter, wiggling, ‘please’s’ and tears that inadvertently follows, you begin to wonder why you bothered laying awake all night brooding over that last discussion you had with Solas on the matter of your people, when all you could’ve done is gone here and have this merry band of misfits and alcohol cheer you up. _

 

But… This hasn't happened to  _ you!  _ (she?)  _ You _ never made it far enough in the game to actually spend time with your companions! (she did!). You’re a human of planet Earth, you’re a human of planet Earth, you’re a human of-

 

_ “Solas, I… I have a bad feeling about this,” you finally fess up, voicing the tingling of your sixth sense for the first time to a fellow companion. Something deep within you  _ twists,  _ an agitated serpent coiled tightly inside your gut.  _

 

_ However, there is no relief accompanying your revelation. It is with great trepidation you await the older, wiser elf’s reply. You glance to the side at him through your long lashes as he turns his stormy, oceanic gaze towards you.  _

 

_ “I have not felt, nor seen anything out of the ordinary tonight. However, should you wish, I can scan the perimeter once more, if that would alleviate your fears”  _

 

_ You keep your gaze steady despite feeling an overwhelming urge to hug yourself. Dalish elf as you are, you don’t give in to such weakness in front of other people, but the quivering of your lower lip betrays the effort it takes. _

 

_ “Please.. Do. I.. can’t describe it, it’s just…” Your stomach lurches as you look out past the fence of Haven, shifting uncomfortably under Solas’ oceanic gaze, “a hunch. Had them since I was little. Keeper called it a curse, since they always appeared before…” And there your words fail you, dying on your tongue, unable to fully reveal your shortcomings to this scholarly, yet  incredibly handsome man.  _

 

_ You’ve never been more aware of every breath you take, every movement you make than in his presence. His mastery of magic and the fade is almost unheard of in hedge mages, and it makes you feel… inferior, in a way. You, who have studied rare elvhen scrolls and been taught personally by a Keeper, knows less and can perform less than him, a self taught mage of the wilds.  _

 

_ But for all your hahren’s knowledge and masteries, it seems even he can not find a natural, or magical, explanation for your.. Gift.  _

 

_ Your shoulders slump despondently as Solas inclines his head at you, then leaves through the main gate. You keep your gaze trained on the snowy mountains beyond Haven, the roiling in your gut increasing tenfold with each minute that pass.  _

 

You choke on melancholy. Deep, profound sorrow pounds within your chest like the beats of a drum, heart racing to the point of pain as you’re suddenly cut off from the very  _ real  _ emotions, and vivid imagery of the memory. You can’t take this confusion anymore, this is too much.  _ Too real, too many realities -  _ you’re a human of planet Earth, not an elf of Thedas!! This onslaught is nothing but an invasion, an  _ alien  _ worming its way into your mind, a presence filling empty spaces within your mind, **this. is . not. Real** ! 

 

Your hands reflexively move to tear at your hair, then go back to scratching at your ( _ her _ ?) throat, a sound of panic erupting from your vocal cords as you can’t seem to make a proper divide between the two. (She?)

 

_ You _ ! 

 

**No!**

 

You have no concept of time as you keep falling, nails keep tearing at your own scalp, the pressure inside your skull increasing with each new memory searing into your mind like a lance of hot, molten lava, a whirlwind of sounds, smells, sensations, memories spinning, blending together into one overwhelming reality that is your ( _ her! _ ) life. You dry heave from nausea as you struggle to keep sane, fingers digging into your scalp until they meet with the essence contained within, ( **please make it stop** !), everything drowning in a tidal wave crashing into you ( _ HER! _ ) speaking of events that are ( **_NOT_ ** !  **Notnotnotnotnotnot** ) yours. 

 

Then _ , finally _ , something snaps and your mind presses the internal button called ‘error’ making you plunge into the blessed world of unconsciousness.

  
  


**~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~** **~**

 

The world is a nonsensical, blurred mockery of colours and light when you come to with a groan. The first thing you notice is that your throat is parched to the point of your tongue feeling like swollen sandpaper, and your stomach feels like it’s been invaded by an army of ants and  needles.

 

You groan yet again, this time from the pain, and slowly get up, trying not to antagonise it into turning to nausea.

 

The world is still blurry, and you blink over and over again, moving to try and rub some moisture into your dry, itchy eyes. The instant the back of your hand connects with your eyelids, an overwhelming smell of charred wood and copper assaults your nose. 

 

You blink, and remove your hands instantly, wrinkling your nose at the smell. 

 

_ What the actual… _

 

It is then that the blur clears and you find yourself staring out over numerous, no… countless of people laying in heaps of limbs, seemingly  _ everywhere,  _ and for as long as the eye can see. 

 

Your mouth opens as the brain catches up on the fact that you are sitting in the middle of some sort of stone courtyard  _ littered with dead people.  _ A scream erupts from your throat, and you flail, foot kicking out to try and stand, but it touches a robe. A robe...a robe you  _ recognise _ , but oh god, you can’t-

 

You scramble to get up and your hand catches on something, and dear Lord and Mary, you  _ know _ that person _..! _

 

Mind on overload again, encased in panic, you refuse to acknowledge who it is you woke up against. You’re barely given enough time to remove a long, grimy clump of hair as your stomach cramps, making you empty a load of green onto the ground. Almost choking on the sour, acidic bile, you barely feel as your lip splits, drowning out the sour taste with copper. 

 

You feel another wave of nausea rolling in, but this time you simply vomit straight ahead as the ground starts trembling violently. It makes you choke on the acid, coughing, sputtering as you somehow remain standing through it all. This has to be a joke, some sort of nightmare, there is not way these many people can just die like this at the same place, and that was absolutely not Dorian’s custom armor you designed back on Earth! 

 

_ That’s it. This is just.. A nightmare. You just need to wake up. That was  _ not  _ Dorian, no way, it couldn’t have been..! _

 

Dazedly, you exhale, spitting out the last remains of the vomit, every vein within your body pulsing with noradrenaline. 

 

_ This is not real. Find the exit and wake up. _

 

You shake, a leaf in the wind. All you know is that you  _ have to get away from  _ this seemingly endless sea of dead people, stumbling _ , lumbering _ towards what looks like a corpse-free staircase. You try to avoid tripping over, or getting caught on, sickeningly odorous people, refusing to acknowledge the fact that some of them stare at you with their mouths and eyes wide open, not stopping to mull over the fact that there are also people in intricately shaped golden armour that have been torn in two, body parts, torn clothing and entrails mixing everywhere, blood pooling beneath, dark slippery, slick, coppery, and  _ oh God _ \-  suddenly you are stopped dead in your tracks as your mind is jolted to full awareness as you realise there is an eerily thin, unmoving person slumped against the closed door. His dirty, holed hat exposes nothing but grimy bangs, one deathly pale hand still reaching up towards the knob… 

 

_ Cole _ . 

 

**COLE!**

 

“COLE!” You choke out, and a sound that you have no word for, erupts in its wake. 

 

Feet slippery from gore, shaky from adrenaline, still assuredly carries you up the last steps. Your heart plummets, your entire being sinks, the nausea surges forth as you fall to your knees at the sight. You can’t even begin to imagine what happened here for this to have occurred, and even the inner voice remains strangely silent on the subject.

 

“Oh my God, Cole?!” Is what makes it past your shrieking mixed with high pitched wails echoing in the silence. 

 

_ This has to be hell. _

 

Is that what this place is? Hell? Did you die in the real world, and your sins caused you to end up in Hell rather than heaven? Is Thedas your version of purgatory? Is that why you’re now cradling a way too light, motionless Cole within your arms? Is that why you are crying out to the heavens that you want to wake up? For God to call you back home? For Him to have mercy on you and make you forget all about what has transpired here?

 

You have no knowledge on how long you rock back and forth, crying your heart out, whispering nonsense, and reliving everything you’ve been through since arriving in Thedas with Cole cradled in your arms, before gravity suddenly decides to do a one hundred and eighty spin. It simply stops working and you’re lifted into the air, as are the massive amount of bodies and body parts, even the fluids becoming airborne. You stare with incomprehension at the phenomena, pressing Cole’s lifeless body against your chest. All sound dies at the back of your throat at the surrealness of it all. As suddenly as it all began, however, it stops. Gravity returns to normal, and with it an ear splitting BOOM explodes from within the castle. You have no time to consciously react, but your elven reflexes disagree. You  _ lunge,  _ ducking underneath broken shards of wood and metal as the massive door to the castle is torn off its hinges and catapulted past your crouched form. 

 

Light as bright as the sun itself follows in a burst of white and green. It tears Cole from your grasp, causing you to holler as the light sears into your retinas, burning through your sclera until nothing but darkness and agony is left. You keep screaming until you’re hoarse, eyes pulsating, burning, a wildfire raging within.

 

Standing up, heart pounding halfway out your ribs, legs shaking like newborn foal, you cry out in faint, broken voice for Cole, sobbing, hiccupping, stained hands coming up to feel at your eyes. Fingers meet with sticky warmth, a wetness that reeks of copper, and you whimper both in pain and loss as you open them slightly and realise… You’ve gone blind.

 

You never imagined, or thought of or even pondered the prospect of never seeing anything. You’ve taken your sight for granted all your life, and now.. Is this going to be how it is for the rest of your stay in Thedas? For.. the rest of your miserable life?

 

_ What if you’ve gone blind on Earth as well? _

 

An agonised whimper, all that you can manage at this point, follows that line of thought. Hopelessness washes over you like a tidal wave, despair as black as the world around you. You close your agonised eyes, chest aching as you bolt into this world of death and darkness, sulphur and copper assaulting your nose with each breath.

 

**_Oh God, Cole.._ **

 

The image of his slumped body will never disappear, and you choke on another broken wail. 

 

There is no one left here, you’ll be alone, trapped in purgatory with nobody to ease the passage of time with. You’ve read the bible, you know Hell has endless torment in store for its occupants.

 

Your stomach cramps in protest as you keep running, clumsily bumping into things along the way. 

 

You pay the distant pain no heed.

 

**Oh Lord, hallowed be thy name, have mercy on-**   
  


“Vhenan?” A gasp of a familiar voice suddenly calls out, and you to come to a screeching halt, both literally and figuratively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to follow me on tumblr or send me a pm/message, I'm http://elenielwen.tumblr.com/
> 
> Also, I LOVE feedback/comments/reviews. They feed my muse <3 Hope to hear from you!


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